Nearly a quarter,
but not quite yet,
I waited,
waited,
waited,
anticipating.

A mystery,
a gift,
a blessing
which we’d only know,
really know,
as the years wove intricate patterns
of colour and rhythm.

On this side of time
I celebrate with joy
the woman who sings the Maker’s song
and like her Father
creates beauty
with her hands,
her grace
full
hands.

 

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