The Weaver's Song

The Weaver of earth’s wonders fills

His loom with color, then it spills

To we, spectators on a pew

Of violet-gold-green-crimson-blue

Where everywhere we turn, we see

Inscriptions of God's Majesty

How faultless every tint and blend

Sunrise, sunset; threads wed and wend

To weave a tapestry of days

Where oft we pause, dumb-struck, amazed

To be refilled with awe once more

At what we thought we saw before

Mortality's voracious bent

Drinks up each hour, heaven-lent 

And often without thought of love

Tramples upon the art He wove

But still The Weaver does not pause

But fills His loom with Mercy's gauze

...where days are like The Weaver’s Song

And nothing stays the same for long

As seasons bloom then fade into

The loom that turns the old to new

And ever recaptures the gaze

Of spectators refilled with praise

© Janet Martin

 

The earth is the LORD'S, and the fulness thereof; the world, and they that dwell therein.

Ps.24:1

Father of earth,

You know this dust

Then teach her to

Believe and trust 

Deception's vice

Entices, wild

Father, I pray

Protect Thy child

...and let her not

Succumb to doubt

Or fear, Lord cast

These demons out

Father of earth

Help her resign

And reconcile

Her will to Thine

Janet