The Maker Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

Who knows but that he keeps
Each blade of grass he ever made
Even the mists of Eden from the first day
For sentimental reasons
Each unduplicated snowflake
In His freezer.
The affection he must have
For all created things
Down to the minutiae, the butterfly wings
The way the sun gleams on the lakes
How could he ever, ever forsake
Much more his broken image in us
For whom we had so little trust
Imagine how much the Maker loves us
You, whoever you are whoever you
dream yourself to be
to make us out of dust and stars.
the foam of seas.
mary angela douglas 20 april 2024