See how we build 
Ours are not the rewards
Of dollars or praise 
A baby's sated milk deep sigh
A toddler's sticky kisses 
Fleeting moments like butterflies' wings
That touch between our fingers 
Brush bright against our lips
And then are gone 
Into the sunmist of time
The ribbons of our teaching 
They will gather and weave into themselves
To be claimed as their own 
In the end
The production of our lives 
Will stand alone
And we will silently sit the shadows 
For it is the nature of things
That open hands 
at last
are empty 
And yet
We work on 
In some strange way fulfilled
From the glittering pain of beginning 
Towards a harvest we will never see
Vital links 
In the mystery chain
Of creation 
Artisans of solid dreams
Oh See! 
See how we build

Edwina Peterson Cross