Jeanne B. Cushman
A gift of pieces has always been mine,
Errands to run, along brooks and through pines,
Tasks in fragments to take and refine,
Fruits to gather from deserts and vines.
Those who are quiet and waiting in time,
Watching me run along brooks and through pines,
Silently biding while I shape the assigned
Pieces, from fragments that have always been mine.