My husband, a US Marine Corps vet, long ago brought it to my attention that soldiers died on the morning of November 11th so that the guns could fall silent at 11 am on the 11th day of the 11th month. As much as I like the poetry of peace treaties being signed on St. Martin’s Day, it’s not any better unless a ceasefire is observed as soon as the decision to sign it is made. In other words, waiting for that special moment means death. This is what stanza 3 is about.

It was written quickly with imperfect meter and inconsistent rhyme schemes; perhaps I’ll revisit it later. But I hope it is worth something as is.

Song for St. Martin’s Day

It’s a long, long winter and coming soon
When the sun will no more warm you
But a summer breeze in the autumn trees
Will dance with you in the morning.

So it’s wait for St. Martin’s Day, my son
Wait for St. Martin’s Day, my dearie,
The sun will rise and fill your eyes
On Martinmas, my bairnie.

I’d not have been for leaving you,
But your heart must have a harbor
So I’ll hit the sand, my hire in hand
To pay the mail in the morning.

So it’s wait for St. Martin’s Day, my jo
Wait for St. Martin’s Day, my loved one
The day will come and home I’ll run
On Martinmas, my darling.

It’s a long hard road that brought us here
It’s a slippery field to sleep in
It’s a crash and flash in the last long night
May our breath endure until morning.

So it’s wait for St. Martin’s Day, my friend
Wait for St. Martin’s Day, my comrade
The guns won’t cease til the day of peace,
Til Martinmas, my brother.

Copyright 2025 Jennie Robertson

Subscribe now

The weathered walls of the cider press, 
Warped with dampness, stained with age, but cherished
For yielding sweetness.  Youth had perished
For it and the man stooped beside it--stress
Of rain and fierce winds had done it. His dress
Was rustic--wool sweater, unembellished
Yet his crouching figure a form relished,
Drawing cider into bottles of glass. 

written 9-30-00

I couldn’t find a good picture of a cider press to use with this post, but you can see one like it here.

Like poetry? Here’s a few more of mine:

Sonnet to a Rubber Door-Stop of a Man

Sweet Alchemy

Subscribe now

Share Mercy, Maine, and Me

Late one night when I was three

I witnessed modern alchemy

At the end of a long lean room

The stove was wreathed in a steamy gloom

Drinking nymph’s blood from a saucer

By moonlight, my aunt read Chaucer.

A little bit scared, I slid from my bed

“What are you doing, Auntie?” I said.

She put out the fire; the room grew cold.

“I’m turning water into gold.”

Backstory: When my niece and nephew were little, they spent the night at our small apartment one March when I happened to be finishing maple syrup on the stove. They were sleeping on the couch, so I had turned off the lights and was reading Canterbury Tales by the window when my little nephew asked what I was doing. (In my mind, “Chaucer” would be a bit too contrived if it weren’t true! But it was true. And alchemy is mentioned in it, which makes it even nicer.) I was sipping the syrup (“nymph’s blood”) from a saucer from time to time to see if it was done (there are much more effective/consistent ways to do this, but at least it’s a tasty way…) Of course, I used a saucer so that the surface area allowed it to cool to drinkable temperature faster. The moonlight, the steam, the little voice speaking out of the dark silence...it was a poem already.

Now, those familiar with syrup-making might be saying, “But! But!” Boiling down sap in an apartment building is not recommended. I made about a pint of syrup, which means I boiled off almost 5 gallons of water. That’s a lot of water in my little apartment. The landlord didn’t think about this possibility when he wrote the lease, I’m guessing. There’s a bit more explanation, which I’ll go into in my next post about the syrup-making season, but basically…I was young and dumb and having fun.)

Between the work and the price and the deliciousness, real maple syrup is gold in more ways than one!

If you liked it, please like, comment, and/or share!

Let me be thankful for each safe revolution of my tires while knowing the next might have a different outcome.  Let me be thankful for the opportunity to practice gratitude in the face of no guarantees, a skill I am lacking.  

Another mile gone. 

Let me relinquish the idea of control.  I can drive smart and I can live smart, but there are things that I cannot determine and I can not guarantee any outcome.  It is good for me to be reminded that you are the one in control.  

Another mile gone.

My children do not often hear me ask audibly for your immediate intervention.  Today they may.  Thank you.  My children do not often witness visible trust and instant responses to prayer.  Today they may.  Thank you. 

When I said, “My foot is slipping,” your unfailing love, Lord, supported me.  When anxiety was great within me, your consolation brought me joy. (Ps. 94:18-19)

Another mile gone. 

If I go off the road in front of the home of someone I need to speak to, it would not be the first time nor even the second.  It beats transportation to Nineveh by whale.  

Trust in the Lord and He will direct your paths. (Proverbs 3:5&6, paraphrased)

Another mile gone. 

The Lord will watch over your coming and going, both now and forevermore. (Psalm 121:3)

Praise our God, all peoples, let the sound of his praise be heard; he has preserved our lives and kept our feet from slipping.  (Ps. 66:9)

If you like it, please share it. : )

With some dismay, I find that I am wed
To a self-styled "doorstop of a man";
"To simply do a simple thing", he said, 
"And do it well, this my life's goal and plan."

My hero and my muse, can he be thus?
Can he bear but an epithet so plain?
Yet every hero, God made out of dust, 
And with God's breath, the dust calls out God's name. 

If I were a cathedral, I had barred
A long time since my heavy, ornate doors, 
"No entry," 'til God's janitor had jarred
Them open when he joined my soul with yours. 

If beauty, lovely and complex, I offer, 
Let every entrant pause and bless the stopper.

If you enjoyed it, please share!