The Carpenter's Cradle

Timber now fashioned, and rough sanded down
With piles of fresh shavings strewn on the ground.
The carpenter ponders each joint and straight edge
Puts down his tools upon the work ledge.

With things to 'consider' he returns to 'his wood'
And enquires of the Lord, 'What's for the good?'
The angel commanded him,"Mary must stay".
It's now clear this fear shouldn't stand in his way.
With each hammer and join, things start to take shape
He's resolved to move forward, he can't hesitate.

Shifting his stool, he then starts to plane.
Sometimes it's hard to go 'gainst the grain.

Finally he smiles, 'It's all God's design.'
His weathered hand feels what's smoothed, now fine.
This small baby Jesus, a gift to mankind
Will no longer rest in a meagre old manger
But will peacefully rock in this carpenter's cradle.

This poem won second place for the December 2005 poetry contest