Wednesday, July 1, 2009

'The Masters Touch" - A poem by Carol Uneva Rickman

"The Master's Touch"

I love to step outside my door
And feel the gentle breeze -
See birds and squirrels and butterflies
Cavorting through the trees.

Some branches, majestically high,
Are stretching toward the sky,
While grass, beneath, hugs tight the ground,
Letting life pass it by.

The ants are ever busy
In their mounds of sandy red,
While mosquitoes and gnats and such
Fly circles 'round my head.

The skies of blue,
With clouds of white and various hues of gray,
Become a splendid pink and red
At dawn and dusk each day.

Raindrops sprinkle ever so lightly,
Warmly, in the breeze,
Or pour, in torrents,
Challenging even the strongest trees.

Man never made a seed
That makes a baby sapling grow,
Or formed the tiny crystals
In a freshly glistening snow.

Nor does he have control
Of earthquakes, hurricanes and such.
Think, daily, of the magnitude
Of the dear Master's touch

That calms the winds.
The seas obey His omnipresent call.
He is, of course, without a doubt,
The Master of it all.

- C. Uneva Rickman


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