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