The Village

Caught between hills of summer green

And winter’s pristine white

The Village is a throwback to

A simpler kind of life

…where steepled church and Peopled walks

And clothes-line’s lilting tune

Are more than an idyllic plot

In fancy’s Brigadoon

The arbors there wear flowered lace

Its summer-child, no shoes

The general store a meeting place

To catch up on the news

…and no one is a stranger there

But rather, family

Lemonade afternoons are shared

Beneath the willow tree

Mothers wear aprons with pockets

These hold a handkerchief

To wipe the nose of freckled Fred

Or tears from Peggy’s cheek

…and on the quiet, country air

Of twilight’s waning scrim

Its hush may bear the whistled lay

Of an old favored hymn

The street is shared with ponied carts

Progress, a word for books

Trundled in picnic baskets

To a haven by the brook

…where caught between soft hills of green

Or winter’s silent night

The Village is a throwback to

The very best of life

© Janet Martin

That’s why, when we lost one of our own,

We lost a piece of The Village.

The village I refer to is the one I grew up in…

I live on the outskirts now,

The store is gone,

The church is empty

…but the clotheslines still lilt,

The farmers still whistle,

And the people are still as friendly as can be,

We all say ‘we should meet more often’,

Then rush on to where we are going…

 These photos are tidbits from two local villages, one mine and the other my sister's...
Their general store is in full business!

These two photos taken by Ashley Curry

First Snow Post-card

This morning's snow-fall feels like the first snowfall again 

(photo taken at our first snow-fall a few weeks ago)  

because of the sort-of-summer-like weather we had between... 

A bitty hedge, a clump of sedge, a stump, a twig, a stem

Beneath first-snow are transformed into beauty’s diadem

Brown banks that bled their blossom dry beside the babbling stream

Are ravished with the lullaby of star-like cherubim

From yonder courts the doors of heaven-corridors swing wide

Where happy dogs and children dot the white-cot countryside

Joy to the world descends, befriending nature’s upturned face

As every hungry hollow is kissed with amazing grace

Earth is a flower-garden filled with snow-drops spilling wild

They wake within a wasted world the laughter of a child

Where tumbling from far tresses like a broken feather-bed

Gilt gossamer caresses earth with heaven-splendored thread

Upon plush breeze the melodies of innocence are borne

It rouses from soft slumber memories of lost youth’s morn

And stirs a sweet remembrance of its simpler time somehow

As first-snow re-acquaints us with the child of long ago

© Janet Martin

Marvel-scape...

 

Then as the mist began to fade I realized a miracle was happening right before my eyes or,

beneath my feet!...a frosty fringe on everything! I knelt, as if on holy ground to kiss the Creator's feet...

These are six of approx. 200 photos I took this morning, because when you point the lens at God's handiwork every shot is perfect!

The sky unravels like a prize

Above a land of gaping sighs

We traipse its wonderment with eyes

Knowing we witness but a gasp

Of Who or How or What God is

To we, the darlings of His kiss

Where we plunder fortunes of mist

To find Something to clasp

The land is like a marvel-scape

It flaunts nature’s four-season cape

And while That Thing of Years takes shape

We fumble with Time’s readiness

Adjusting plans, mustering prayers

Adding or else subtracting chairs

As Birth and Death startles our stares

And jolts us to keen Awareness

We, stitch of skin that clothes The Soul

That binds us to an Awesome Whole

While seasons roll and eons toll

Reiterate the What and Why

It pours unstoppered through our gaze

From Mercy’s heavenly freeways

We grapple with earth’s girth of days

Hinged to the dirt hinged to the sky

...that unravels like heaven’s prize

Anemic glimpse of paradise

Waiting beyond our hoarded whys

Forevermore; ah, what a word

Then we will meet God; who for This

Lavished us with creation’s bliss

As a foretaste of Who He Is

The King of kings and Lord of lords

© Janet Martin

just a few more, I can't resist.

Take the Time to Take the Time (with the best this world offers)

  

My son suggested to me this morning that he thinks I would love this song;

I do:)

Aren't three-year-olds the best?! aren't all children the best thing in the world?!

It makes us reconsider how much time we are taking with them, huh?

I came across this video from the summer while looking for a photo this morning... 

 

The little guy I babysit just turned three. 

Yesterday he began one of his 'chatters' with,

 'Janet, did you know, when I was a li'l kid...'

(I have to confess I don't remember what came after that because of the laughter;-0)

We tend to think we're leading them

And teaching them what they should learn

But often as we look back we

See how much they teach in return

We should take time to take the time

To learn from them all that we can

...while innocence that learns from us

Becomes tomorrow's woman-man

 Janet Martin

Train up a child in the way he should go,

And when he is old he will not depart from it.

Proverbs 22:6 

We Are Kin

'We are all God's children' 

wrote Edwin Romond in today's YDP...a poem well worth your reading-pleasure!

We,

 young or old, 

grumpy or glad grinned

No matter our shape 

or shade of skin

or where we live

or who we be

We are part of 

God's family

...so then

we should entreat each other

not as stranger,

but sister and brother

because

we are born, 

kindred in blood

For we are all

Children of God

Janet~
 So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, Gal.3:26

Where Time Stands Still...

Time tugs at heart-strings; disregards

Its thought-scape threaded with postcards

Where, like autumnal leaf scenes waft

Upon the sheaf of past, silk-soft

...and most would be forgotten, lost

Save for heart-strings that bind them close

 

And render to thought’s touch the thrill

Of pictures framed where Time stands still

© Janet Martin

Happy December...

May 'Glad Tidings of Comfort and Joy' make this December a season of renewed wonder

December lowers boreal bars

And kisses the landscape with stars

The hill, the rill, the dell and dale

Carries December’s bridal veil

Moments like tattered petals flow

To the cradle where flowers go

December, with maternal air

Hush-a-byes earth’s culled thoroughfare

Across blue fields fond echoes blow

December yields idylls of snow

It jingles bells in laden skies

And drapes the fell in dreamer’s sighs

December flings its gate ajar

And sings where happy children are

As heavens ring with the refrain

Of hope-joy-peace-goodwill to men

© Janet Martin

...the vaults ring with 'can you believe its December already!?' as
we turn up the last page on calendars...