Of Unromantic Mondays Mornings...

 ...from Shirley, by Charlotte Brontë

I had to think of this line; 'something as unromantic as a Monday morning' as I purveyed week-end aftermath...

How little we full know

Of what we think we do

Though hindsight may perhaps bestow

A broader point of view

We cannot truly tell

What sighs beneath the skin

Of Monday morning fare-thee-well

Until we meet again

…and though we think we stand

Where we have stood before

As Monday reaches out her hand

And draws ajar her door

...and though we recognize

The vintage in her flask

And even if we shut our eyes

We could perform her task

Still, Time’s week-to-week path

As by God’s grace we go

Is strewn with tell-tale aftermath

Of how little we know

 

...yet,of one thing I'm sure

Though Unknown weighs time’s table

‘I know in whom I have believed

And know that He is able’

© Janet Martin

It was a busy, Maple-flavored week-end... where we enjoyed lots of treats!

from the Elmira Maple Syrup Festival...frigid temperatures did not deter the crowds.

Where Verge and Dirge Merge...

 Thinking of/praying for the Tippett family today as they hold a memorial service for Kara.

In this fast-forward arrangement of hours

No one can see the full bloom its bud holds

Even in gathering fistfuls of flowers

Verge and dirge merge where a lifetime unfolds

Silhouette-sketches etched on yon horizon

Presses new pages to sunrise-sunset

Stunning the wanderer pausing to listen

Hello and farewell, fine-tuned minuet

Time never seems at a loss for fresh kisses

It never dulls its greeting of Today

…soon unknown is that which thought reminisces

Fresh-planted memories on life’s pathway

Come, before Nevermore rushes, a breaker

Over this seemingly ongoing Thing

Time, at the mercy of Giver and Taker

Ceases by one Awesome cutting of string

© Janet Martin

Time is a garden on the threshold of Forever...

Soon...

Soon green will gild the barren field

And gold, bold and unfettered

Will wash across colorless dross

As bud-springs are untethered

Soon earth will be reborn beneath

A sea of April’s showers

The hill we climbed a hundred times

Be fresh and new with flowers

At winter-set we will forget

How chill the ill wind blustered

Or how we craved noon well-behaved

‘Neath welkin, cloud-sheep clustered

Soon we will sit where zephyrs flit

Like butterflies o’er fallow

Twilight a chair of friendly air

To watch the swooping swallow

And soon the tune of May and June

Will croon in swooning arches

Where every limb is nature’s hymn

For when March moves, she marches

© Janet Martin

Can you believe its already near the end of March!?

New Reasons To Be Thankful

When life with sundry care to bear

Gives more than we deem our just share

And when the letting go is hard

And leaves us feeling sorrow-jarred

When we question the ‘why’ of it

Or nurse vain self-pity a bit

When it is past we learn at last

New reasons to be thankful

And when over a cup of tea

We think of others’ misery

And how when life poured out its woe

They bore the More of grief, then oh,

We are quite humbled at this thought

Of how life’s obstacles have taught

Us sympathy and then we see

New reasons to be thankful

When disappointment’s stings subside

And we have swallowed our pride

When we with love fully forgive

Then we have learned to fully live

When we have turned the other cheek

Without revenge to seek or speak

But remain kind, then we will find

New reasons to be thankful

© Janet Martin

Happy Birthday, Lucy .

God bless you as you seek to serve Him and shine.

Wasn't it a happy tea-party?

We parted agreeing on this thought; challenges teach us new reasons to be thankful!

March Maître d’

Lovely sky-flower, 

Sweet solar-plume, 

You have the power 

To set hearts a-bloom!

She is able to beguile

Even misers by Her smile

Weather-forecasters would be hated, I fear

If ever She chose to disappear

(I have heard people rant at the weatherman when the sun has not made an appearance for a while , and he had to remind them that he is merely the messenger and has no power over Her;)

It's Weekly  Wikem-time . Wanna know what that is? See Definition here, then play, won't you?

The Sun is by far the brightest object in the sky; Wikipedia

You wake the world with gold, behold

Another day begins, and we

Seem cheerier somehow, all told

When kissed by heaven’s maître d’

You warm the brook and free its dance

Not with a rough-neck yank and kick

But with caresses you romance

Winter with winsome limerick

…and on the pond where skaters twirled

And whirled while you watched from afar

You reach from some strange outer world

To splash its sash with broken star

…where now the loafing dreamer lies

Reborn beneath your smile as you

Scrawl soft upon earth’s stirring sighs

The sprawling shadow, gray, not blue

…and those of more and middle years

Are suddenly much younger too

As they inhale your elixir

Then dare to dream a dream or two

…beneath you, world-wide super-star

As old as time, still you impress

Each generation, for you are

The maître d’ of happiness

© Janet Martin

Don't you love it when you think it's going to be a cloudy day and suddenly the sun breaks through in a grand Hallelujah Chorus?!