The Scale Of Things

The Scale Of Things

I sit by my table, wondering
Of what would I pen today
Soak in all that surrounds
Water the seeds that stay
From those benign wanders
Of such moments yesterday

A seed then takes to sprout
And make its way skyward
Blooms deep inside my mind
Fruit of a parched orchard
I nurture the tree it becomes
And shades the path onward

I step back proud, to admire
What beauty powers my pen
A friendly pat on the shoulder
Ah! here’s my divine omen
A ruffle for a job well done
I submit to the God of men

He takes my little handiwork
A scrawl now held divine
Places it as the final piece
The crux of the human shrine
Humbled again I thank Him
A pride lost in what is mine

-x-x-x-

© Parched For Rain

Other Instances of Divine Intervention @ Parched For Rain

Seven Paper Boats || Inadequate || Oh Father