Saturday, October 1, 2016

To Time's Boasters...

The bluff boasts of thistle-scruff, grass-stuff and wind
The Past boasts in pastures of days left behind
The day boasts of hope and possibility
Thought is the boaster of fond memory
The poet boasts nothing but gifts shaped in ink
The mother boasts mercies, the morning boasts pink
We all boast of birthdays and what life has lent
The miser boasts coffers of money not spent
The bigot boasts of anything that he can
The lad boasts of what he will be as a man
The baker boasts as he should, goodness of bread
The field boasts with harvest, the seamstress with thread
The lady boasts soft hands and fine raven locks
The farmer of land he loves, the shepherd, of flocks  
The hillside boasts picnics, the summer boasts flowers
The sky boasts in awnings of sunshine and showers
The clock boasts in tick-tock, the garden boasts plants
Yet nothing boasts anything but what God grants

© Janet Martin

 …For as I walked around and examined your objects of worship, I even found an altar with the inscription: To an unknown God. Therefore what you worship as something unknown, I now proclaim to you. The God who made the world and everything in it is the Lord of heaven and earth and does not live in temples made by human hands. Nor is He served by human hands, as if He needed anything, because He Himself gives all men life and breath and everything else.…

Acts 17:23-25 

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Thank you for your visit to this porch. I'd love to hear if or how this post/poem touched you!