Our own

We act as if the vineyard is our own
It is not, when you sit still and let
The day or night take your mind
In wonder, back and beyond where
We exist in time, it has been, it will
Be if we realize we are only caretakers
Lent this way once, what can we do
To make it a livable space for the
Time we inhabit it? How can we
Damage it without thought when
It goes out beyond us? We don't
Possess it as we thought we are but
Here an instant and gone, so it
Matters whether we treasure or
Whether we trash the gift given