Spring Days




He’s placed the golden rods in all the corners,
And the pink cherry trees to line the streets,
The mockingbird, the robin, the swallow, and the finch,
Chirp together under scattered clouds and rays of sunshine.


At what moment did the lawn become green?
When did he tell the rabbit, the horse, and the deer to play?


And yet the wind is still steadily blowing chilled air,
It is only spring after all. With only hope of warmth.


Each raindrop that falls has a destination,
It's own place to wet and increase to a puddle,
Thunder rolls with brilliant masterpieces of blue and yellow,
Power unknown to any of us. Too big! Too grand!


Who has created this? Who takes care of this?
Oh, but our God, our Savior, our Father in heaven,
There is nothing here that he is without knowledge of,
All is his, yet he has given to us. He is worthy of praise!

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