I looked to You
in the twilight of the morning,
the morning after you molded me
and asked for work to do,

“Be still, the sun is rising,”
it rose; I stood beside you,
and we sat beside a river
and floated leaves down the stream,
“What must I do?”
and still, the sun was shining.

And I put my hand to the earth
to tend to all You’d planted,
“Be still, the sun is setting,”
And I stood beside You:
we both saw that it was good.

By Heidi Turner