Landscape

You drew the blueprints
to so many lives,
foundation of bare landscape,
illustrations to your stories
for as long as finite time exists.

You overlooked no detail,
from the silky hairs of the
hungry, mewling newborn
to the lines of honor on
the face of the
feeble, wise centenarian.

No hatchling bird in it’s nest,
protesting over it’s siblings
for the worm-
no stretching, reaching morning glory,
that sighs its honey smell
crisp September mornings.

Your generous hand stretches out,
kindness unseen, unheeded.
Your love distorted,
your justice downplayed,
but you call us still,
and show us your goodness.