A Blessed Day

This poem was written by the Husband of a fellow Junker, and she was kind enough to let me re-print it. What we do with Junk, God does with us.
Finds us, Prizes us, Cleans us up, and Saves Us. .

Curbside Archeology

She prowls in duty in the night,
In snow, or rain or when it's dry.
And curbside trash if she can find,
she wrestles from the garbage fly.
Thus humbled to this curbside waste
She grabs it, then departs in haste.

One can the more, one bag the less
Had half impaired hat shameless grace
That searches deep within each sack
The smell of refuse on her face.
But odors can not drive her back
Unless a skunk be in that place.

And now my dear the night's no more
Your fingernails are cracked and wore
The smell of skunk is on our clothes
But you found one legged pantie hose
And even though your treasure's tore
You've had success, now you want more.

She searches darkness for the lost
Redeeming from a certain fate
That which was useless and cast off
To revive its sorry state.
Thus washed and cleansed at her own cost
Saving before it is too late.

As Jesus hearkens to the lost
Redeeming us from certain fate
when God to us seemed so far off
Christ restored us to His Gates.
Thus washed and cleansed at His own cost,
saving before it was too late.

Jerry Edwin Jeans