Good

God, you cannot be but good.

Though the bad of this world

Causes us to question,

With toil and strife,

Your goodness stands.

Your goodness.

It tills the earth,

Fells the oak,

Softens the clay.

It plants,

It planes,

It molds.

It prunes,

It joins,

It smooths.

Until we are…

Fruit producing.

Sturdy and sound.

A beautiful vessel.

Copyright © 2023 by Travis Teague