Friday, September 9, 2011
To pause upon the brink of dawn
And see its languid tone
Begin to creep across the lawn
And silent cobblestone
Too see the heavy folds of night
Lift from earth’s frozen shore
As heaven’s fingers spread the light
Across its darkened floor
...and black-etched form of birch and pine
Drawn starkly ‘gainst the dusk
Begins to soften rigid lines
In shades of gold-chartreuse
To feel the hope of things to come
Awaken with the flower
As earth stirs ‘neath a painted dome
Aflame with holy power
To see the Hand that lights the dawn
In unframed works of art
Restores in me with quiet awe
A meek, contented heart
I took this picture from my front porch this morning.
I realized that every 'frame' I shot was perfect.
How could they not be? Painted by the perfect Creator!