The Carpenter
My daughters lie safely in bed,
Not a whimper, nor a moan.
The fan gently stirs the air
To drown out the ringing phone.
Outside, I hear a carpenter,
As he hammers a nail, or two.
Then I’m reminded of my Lord
For He was a builder, too.
My thoughts drift to my brother.
He works with his hands, too.
Repairing older structures,
Also, creating new.
My brother, my Lord, and I
Work together as a team.
I love being close to them-
Feels so much like a dream.
Then I gaze at my two daughters
And think, “Wow! This is real.”
My heart fills with thanksgiving
And my soul doth kneel.
By Norma Budden-Aningat
Copyright 2004
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