Gratitude

Against the blue and frosted slope
I see a silent throng
Like flowers that have shed their coat
Or minstrels with no song
A thickened sort of quiet lies
Against this rugged cusp
Where winds, like stiff-starched orderlies
Have stripped sweet summer’s lust
And up into the vaulted sky
I hear the murmur of good-bye

Against the ruby thread of dawn
I see a silhouette
A lonesome sort of picture drawn
In frames of sorrow, yet
A battle-song of beauty moans
From thorns without their bloom
In dark and muted undertones
It warms earth’s stricken tomb
As petal-tear of flow’r and leaf
Imbrues the sphere with nature’s grief

Against the tumult of the heart
A tender peace resides
For just as seasons of the earth
God’s faithfulness abides
When life is rich with vibrant bloom
Or stripped of comforts dear
He whispers in the aching gloom
To tell us He is near
And over autumn’s garb subdued
We breathe a prayer of gratitude

Janet Martin