It was
just a bank of clay by the irrigation ditch,
unpretentious and covered in weeds,
but to us it was a world of wonder.
We dipped the clay into the cool water,
molding it with our imaginations,
and the magic appeared.
Battalions of soldiers fought with armies
of monsters,
while castles, complete with kings and queens,
towered over the scene.
Pots
and bowls of all shapes and sizes
sat baking in the hot sun,
masterpieces of art, every one.
We
became the creators,
the masters of our universe,
until the sun went down
and it was time to go home,
and once again our world of wonder
became a bank of clay.
Now I
often think of that bank,
so much like our lives,
unpretentious,
covered in the mistakes of our past.
then the Master Creator
dips us in the cool waters of His love
and each one becomes a masterpiece of His
art.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
|
