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