A riot of snowflakes tumbling from welkin reservoirs…
It feels SO good to get up and want to stay in the upright position
after a few mornings of lying down again as soon as I was up…
thankfully the worst of the bug only lasted a few days!
Still in slow motion, but at least I’m in motion!😅
There really is no end to a poem like this…
before I was ‘under the weather’.
The first line inspired by these little guys…
Thatch matted metamorphosis of finches turning gold…
Icicle-brickled eaves…
Because granddaughter is going to celebrate her birthday this year
with her other set of Grandparents (in Nova Scotia!)
we had an early celebration planned for Sunday but needed to cancel it. 😪
However, Granddaughter’s/grandchildren’s (well, everyone’s)
disappointment was cheered a little
after being told she would still get her gift.
They did an outdoor ‘deck drop-by’…
When they were ready to leave youngest Grandson came to me
for his regular goodbye hug and kiss.
When I told him gramma is sick, and better to skip hugs today
he didn’t move but just stood there with his arms held up 😂💗
gazing expectantly with his big blue eyes,
so of course he got a big tried-not-to-breathe-on-him hug
and a kiss on his hat 😂
Bird entertainment…
Robins.
Things I Like…
Thatch matted metamorphosis of finches turning gold
British accents; a patchwork quilt, laughter of young and old
The pleasure of an afternoon when to-do lists are tossed
Blush hush of dusk. Pale crescent moon. Babies. Dawn, dipped in frost
Old books that smell like years gone by; that stoke nostalgia’s kiss
Warm mug to wrap chilled hands around while lost in coffee-bliss
Nature’s quieter pose, before spring flings ajar bud-doors
A riot of snowflakes tumbling from welkin reservoirs
Impromptu lunch date with dear mom and dad, while life allows
And cherishing them more and more as time its touch endows
Epiphanies while sipping tea with comrades, battle-scarred
(there is no ‘small talk’ when love trusts enough to low’r its guard)
An immense sense of gratitude no poem can curtail
A little lad, mud puddle glad where paper boats set sail
Flowers to give or to receive. April showers. Family
Enchanting lands of make-believe beneath the willow tree
A hand in hand stroll with a child. Icicle-brickled eaves
Worship hymns. Wisdom. Lilacs. Field full of hand-stooked sheaves
Autumn leaves. Winding backroads. Woodland trails. Old bridges. Trains
Thunderstorms. Horses running free with waving tails and manes
Gardens. Meadows. Babbling brooks. Bare feet and Butterflies
Spring peepers. Innocence. Lamplight. Old apple trees. Sunrise
Bible stories and Birthday cakes. Lakes, silver in the sun
Puppies. Long stretchy skirts. Winter rainbows. Workout done
Raindrop plip-plop. The humble joy of health after flu bug
Littlest grandson who won’t leave without a Gramma-hug
Bird entertainment. Robins. Rail fence. Tulips. Daffodils
A freshly cleaned or painted room. Vista of rolling hills
Window sills with flowers. Mother-in-law’s geraniums
Sea-song. Beach walks. Flip-flops. August. Crickets. Dahlias. Ripe plums
Poem-a-day-challenge, God’s glory that heavens declare
Grape arbors. Campfire cooking. Wisteria. Fix of fresh air
Lines filled with flapping laundry.
Shadow-art on countryside
Scent of summer’s rain-tamed dust or fresh-mown hay.
Bike ride
Music.
Forget-me-nots.
Mercies, too manifold to name
Sisters.
Hot-cross buns.
Easter.
Hope through He from whence we came…
© Janet Martin
I wanted to mention more but the poem was getting too long;
little fists full of first dandelion bouquets
rosy faces framed in woolly hoods
a warm handshake
the meeting of eyes… no words needed
wild-flowered meadow
crisp apple (or, apple crisp!)
mellow, yellow pear
pussy willows
picnics
sap buckets brimming,
wood smoke curlicues,
neatly piled wood stacks,
cellar full of canning=thankful satisfaction
cookbooks,
supper soup,
weathered buildings,
front porches,
front doors,
and so much more
bee-butts, (their bodies shamelessly burrowed in bloom-bells,)
zinnias,
watering cans,
ivy,
wind-chimes,
snowmen,
okay, I will stop
Thank-you God, for filling this world with so much to delight us…
Ps.40:5
Many, Lord my God,
are the wonders you have done,
the things you planned for us.
None can compare with you;
were I to speak and tell of your deeds,
they would be too many to declare.
