Ageless, timeless, Home-making Love,
we have to trust You, but somewhere
between big bang and pending doom
our quick lives seem rootless, fruitless.
Families disintegrate while
faults proliferate; landfills expand.
You must be fed up with us, Love.
Each day another child is lost.
Are we too old to be tutored?
Take us to Your Homeroom, Spirit,
where no honest writing attempt
dies; each year’s joys outweigh its grief.
Renew us at dawn, Lovely One;
ready us for Your epic days
outdoors or at home with children,
awed how You empower our words.