THE Painter

Tuesday.  First light.
A meeting with some special men.
Early out the door, waiting for a ride...

Painting morning once again,
my Father fills the sky!
He smiles at me with His eyes
at my each 'how' and 'why.'
I do not have to vocalize
the comments that arise,
He addresses those, as well,
because He is The Wise!
And He continues with the shades
that haven't got a name.
The poet yet is empty, as
they never are the same!
Every time He makes a morning
it is something new--
so glorious, the contrast...
so wonderful, the hue!

So as He paints the morning I
exalt Him and enjoy.
Everything inside my pen
endeavor I employ!
Only but attempt, though, as
perfection is His Own;
the glory of His Majesty
across the morning known!

NEVER waste a moment.  Even waiting for a ride before anyone else is awake, God is alive and moving!
Just look around...
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