CANVAS OF LIFE





















I take my finger and hold it up
And trace the outline of the sky-
Sketch in the wispy pine trees
and the inky clouds up high.
I pretend I am the artist
that created such a sight.
I step back to study the vivid lines
that I adore with such delight.
My humble palette holds no color
as violet as that sky.
What artist paints with such precision?
I admit- it is not I.
No color holds as red a tone
as the autumn maples there.
How exact each fiber of the earth
He has painted with such care!
Every sight that I behold-
He has colored with His hand.
And I could never imitate
the brilliance of this land.
But, when I paint, I like to feel
that the Master guides my eye
And smiles at all that I create
from His workshop in the sky...