Wednesday, July 19, 2017

God's Poetry

God writes his poem not with pen in hand
His ink is nature drawn across the land
His words are there to read in light and shade
In stillness of a wood, a quiet glade
He whispers on the breeze through tree tops high
In leafy summer boughs that shift and sigh
He spells out moss in myriad shades of green
And sings His rhymes through every bird that’s seen
He shapes His letters, paints them with the sun
And crimson brushstrokes as the day is done
Each facet of creation is aware
In every heartbeat, every breath – He’s there

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