I Like (or, So Much to Love)

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...I began this poem after reading Brenda's post on Friday morning, 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 goldBritish accents; a patchwork quilt, laughter of young and oldThe pleasure of an afternoon when to-do lists are tossedBlush hush of dusk. Pale crescent moon. Babies. Dawn, dipped in frost Old books that smell like years gone by; that stoke nostalgia’s kissWarm mug to wrap chilled hands around while lost in coffee-blissNature's quieter pose, before spring flings ajar bud-doorsA riot of snowflakes tumbling from welkin reservoirs Impromptu lunch date with dear mom and dad, while life allowsAnd cherishing them more and more as time its touch endowsEpiphanies 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 curtailA little lad, mud puddle glad where paper boats set sailFlowers to give or to receive. April showers. FamilyEnchanting lands of make-believe beneath the willow tree A hand in hand stroll with a child. Icicle-brickled eavesWorship hymns. Wisdom. Lilacs. Field full of hand-stooked sheavesAutumn leaves. Winding backroads. Woodland trails. Old bridges. TrainsThunderstorms. Horses running free with waving tails and manes Gardens. Meadows. Babbling brooks. Bare feet and ButterfliesSpring peepers. Innocence. Lamplight. Old apple trees. SunriseBible stories and Birthday cakes. Lakes, silver in the sunPuppies. Long stretchy skirts. Winter rainbows. Workout done Raindrop plip-plop. The humble joy of health after flu bugLittlest grandson who won’t leave without a Gramma-hugBird entertainment. Robins. Rail fence. Tulips. DaffodilsA freshly cleaned or painted room. Vista of rolling hills Window sills with flowers. Mother-in-law’s geraniumsSea-song. Beach walks. Flip-flops. August. Crickets. Dahlias. Ripe plumsPoem-a-day-challenge, God’s glory that heavens declareGrape arbors. Campfire cooking. Wisteria. Fix of fresh air Lines filled with flapping laundry. Shadow-art on countrysideScent of summer’s rain-tamed dust or fresh-mown hay. Bike rideMusic. Forget-me-nots. Mercies, too manifold to nameSisters. 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 bouquetsrosy faces framed in woolly hoodsa warm handshakethe meeting of eyes... no words neededwild-flowered meadowcrisp apple (or, apple crisp!)mellow, yellow pearpussy willowspicnicssap buckets brimming,wood smoke curlicues,neatly piled wood stacks,cellar full of canning=thankful satisfactioncookbooks,supper soup,weathered buildings,front porches,front doors,and so much morebee-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.40:5Many, 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.