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Watcher of the Morning, poems by Mark Weinrich

(sunrise, image by Наталья Коллегова (Natalia Kollegova), on Pixabay)


What expectancy

when I cast my trowel

and gloves aside.

What intimacy

as soil spills,

flows between my fingers.

Sweet scent of musty earth

reminds me of my brokenness.

What opportunity

is hidden in this

sifted ground?

What glory springs

when we place

the seeds of circumstance

into His hands?



I watched the greatest Artist paint the dawn;

His strokes were bold and confidently bright,

the silhouette of landscape shadows drawn,

the background splashed with rosy waves of light.

I heard and felt the whisper of His brush,

in singing leaves and grasses kissed with dew,

ablaze with growing day, the mountains blush;

I watched the day emerging fresh and new.

This gift of time an opportunity,

I bow my head requesting daily grace,

that I might walk with Christ and He with me,

as He redeems the time, we run the race.

I thank Him for His Spirit’s daily breath,

For fresh, new dawns, and triumph over death.



In the yellowed pages

of a Depression era book

I found my life in Christ.

It was a borrowed book.

The owner’s name written

in front. I suppose Mom

meant to return it or

at least read it. But why

would I, a depressed and

rebellious teen? I kneeled

beside my bed at page 79

when a fictional character answered

the invitation, “Just As I Am”.

Why would I even open

the worn cover? It is still

the mystery and wonder

of my life. I imagine

with gratitude that

someone prayed, perhaps

the owner of the book.

Mark Weinrich is a cancer survivor, a retired pastor, gardener, hiker, and musician. He

has had over 420 poems, articles, and

short stories published in numerous publications. He has sold eight children’s books and has two fantasy novels on Kindle.

May 2021 issue

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