The Harvest Son

When it is for
your glory Father...

The words flow like
the whitewater rapids
that shape gorge walls
into natural wonders.

How sharp must your
chisel be, oh Lord,
and how accurate is
the striking of
your mallet.

That you, as the
Master Artisan,
would choose my vessel
for new creation;
edifying your Kingdom.

Just as the sun
draws out natural sugars
of grape clusters
on the vine,
so do your hands
allow my fruit
to mature; becoming
sweet to the taste.

That they be harvested
to become new wine
for your glory,
in the season
and Son that is
your time.