Growth
Wet, cool, soothing to my soul,
Earth between my toes,
Mud pies on fall Saturdays,
Brisk fresh air, ah contentment.
Molding clay between my fingers,
Creating works of art
From my inner depths,
Human spirit, gift from God.
Who are we to question why?
God is molding clay
To be fired with the trials of a lifetime,
Contentment and acceptance are most desired.
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