The maker

Flicker. Fade. Ignite.
Line of sight
As grey goshawk peers
Down at maker's fingers
Plying spoils of earth
Like she toys with prey
Watching
Ruminating creative urge
Gives birth to treasure
Of unmeasured worth
Polished pleasure
First ever seen by
Naked eyes
Akin to mother earth
Fragility of life
In this temporal sphere
Only compounds her worth

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