Paint Me Persuaded

tinos-lily-macro.jpg

 

Paint me persuaded, in rich sunset hues,

Carve me converted, an artisan’s Muse;

Trace and embellish, etch and design,

No matter the media, my heart is Thine.

 

Master Linguist

pinetree.jpg

Master Linguist, conjugate

A metaphor on Nature’s slate,

String Your Words like diadems,

Loose Your lexiconic gems.

Idioms, Creation’s cloak,

(Accents for the simpler folk)

Speak in volumes , tell in prose,

In every dialect disclose

The glory of Your Living Word.

Among the wonders I have heard,

I hear Your discourse in the breeze,

Syntax in the whispering leaves;

Alphabets in Milky Way,

Grammar at each breaking day.

Master Linguist, breathe in me

Words that shape my prosody.

Lord, You Stir

Lord, You stir in breathless wind,

hover close in gentle dew,

shine in slanted sunlight beams,

dance in scalloped leaf-edged hue.

Tiny cells declare Your work,

whisper Your creative flair;

I sense You in this garden grove,

 breathe You in sweet sacred air.

Your Hand

Sunlight robed in Sunday best,

sky, the sea on canvas brushed,

leaves in rustling autumn vest

swayed to whispered wind-worn hush.

Branches opened fists of wood,

letting go of season past,

and I, who underneath it stood,

saw Your hand, and gripped it fast.

Paintbrush

After You painted the sun in the sky,

Adding a rainbow and brilliant sunrise;

After You crafted the mountains and trees,

Sketching the lilies, the roses, the seas –

You left me a palette, with flowers for hues,

And gave me blank canvas and paintbrush to use…

Indian paintbrush grows wild here – it comes in many variations of pinks.  This one is growing in the ditch near my yard – I don’t know its proper botanical name.   It always reminds me that art is alive all around us in this gallery we call Earth…