Monday, September 21, 2015

Near and Dear






Dawn’s Shepherd guides the stars into a far and fading fold
He rends celestial pastures; his staff flames, night burns red-gold
And on a little berth called earth the looking up of man
Is filled with wonder where the thunder of eons began

Stars fall; small studs of glitter on each leaf and lisp of grass
Where heaven spills its quiver like a river spun of glass
To this forum of ages showcasing God’s finest art
On cloth of common places for the rich of eye and heart

No one can claim the credit for each masterpiece of air
Or dust, but He who rouses praise from man’s dumbfounded stare
Reminding blind philanderers that flirt with life and death
How near and dear we are to He who grants each day, each breath

© Janet Martin



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