Your Art

Here is a sketch of a wood thrush I did in colored pencil

“Your Art”

I don’t know the reason why
It gives me so much pleasure
When you share your unfinished quilt,
The poem you’re still tinkering with,
The painting that gave you agony,
But somehow you managed to finish.
I know few greater joys—
Perhaps when a grown man smiles.
Give to some cancer cures,
To others fulfilled prophecy,
And to many bread and meat;
But as for me, show me art,
And then I will believe.
Show me the knuckles of Oholiab,
And the crossed-eyes of Bezalel—
There is nothing more to prove.
Even though he said he rested
On the seventh day,
Aslan is still on the move.