Monday, February 24, 2014

Air-brushed Perfection






 After the potpourri of weather we had at the end of last week one can ski for literally miles on works of unframed art!


How fondly He must move the sky
To know what thus ensues
As wind and rain and snow and sun
Earth’s dormant dell imbues

This canvas blooms with raw design
Original and rare
Where elements and God align
His brush, nothing but air

He startles slopes with naught but thought
Should I remove my shoes?
To tread these master-pieces wrought
Of silvers, whites and blues?

We cannot dream such works as this…
Free-falling filigree
In swirling, twirling twist of mist
Earth touts His majesty

…and we like daily strangers come
To marvel at His thought
Where handiwork of season-song
Spills to man’s plebeian plot

Our labor, clad with common care
Dons a divine purport
We serve the One who moves the air
In grand, un-fathomed art


© Janet Martin

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