When the spring rain comes
crashing down
when the summer wind
blows through my hair
when the autumn leaves
fall to the ground
and the winter snow
blows through the trees
grace comes upon me,
and I thank God.

Branches in the puddle on the sidewalk
dark against the pale face of the sky
broken pictures of a broken world
windows to a place like mine
but not the same
I wonder – do they cry there?

The wind, it leaves the flowering branches crying
raining down their life over my face
little echoes of what I was made for
pieces of a near, dear place
but far away
I wonder – would I know it?

The world was small,
the woods were deep,
the stag with a cross
did run and leap
his antlers twining, like the trees
their branches winding
in the breeze
The cave was dark,
the stars were bright
stories written in them
poems and songs they used to sing
before the wind did take them
The seas were great,
the fires blazing
the warriors ran,
their torches raising
with spears and bows, and swords to pierce
silver dripping, shining
eyes so fierce

Deep unfathomable depth of blue; the sky comes down to touch the very ground, waving with wheat sown and tended to grow, to fill the emptiness in our lives. Brown and golden, all shining like little beacons of light, glittering as they wave: Back and forth, together as one, an ocean of light.

And the wind blows, warm, scattering the dust, born from the heat. It travels through the cracks in the old barn, coating the floor with a light sand in which to make our footprints. The shadows within are cool: a musty alternative to the fresh air outside its walls. But sheltering.

Everywhere a person goes, he sees some form of creation such as other people, the wondrous sky, the flying birds, the tall and majestic trees, and many unique animals . No matter where one looks, one witnesses nature testifying that it was created. In its own complexity, the natural world practically shouts it out; plant life, animal instincts, and yes, even the very earth itself proves that there is a highly intelligent creator, God, behind the existence of everything.

Wonder of the glowing sunrise
With its golden day breaking horizons

Wonder of the laden dew
With tall green grass and sparkling leaves

Wonder of the sun’s bright light
With rays of gold stream down

Wonder of soft cloudy dawns
With cool wind wisps by

Wonder of the glistening lapping waves
With mermaids swimming tails glittering in sun

Wonder of the wavering sea
With blue depths, the sun rays gleaming through

Wonder of the rising whale
With water he leaps, as he comes from the sea

the leaves have caught the sun
and hold it boldly, bravely
and give it, all unwavering
even when it’s gone

the leaves have caught the light
they guard it like a secret
they treasure and they keep it
even through the night

the leaves have caught the glow
and mirroring each other
they paint the whole world over
refuse to let it go

the leaves have caught the sun
and play it ‘neath the blue sky
right back into the bright eye
of the one they caught it from

Can the sun fade like a morning star?
Can I grow weaker in a wisp of the wind?
Can the moon rise grasping nothing
In the glance of The Lord?

Can the wood creak, breaking its limbs?
Can the sea rise, and sail back into the depths?
Can life spring like rain from the sky?
In the gaze of The Lord?

Can the warrior strike against steel like water?
Can the fire flare and fall to ashes?
Can the light burn, but fall into blackness
In the sight of The Lord?

My legs long to run,
my heart longs to beat,
I yearn for the feeling,
of lifting off my feet

My voice longs to sing,
my ears long to hear
the song of the wild,
that is calling so near

My soul longs to soar
above rolling hills,
I wish I could wander
and climb trees at will

I know that I must
follow my spirit, away
and live with the land
till the end of my days.

I hold not sword nor saber,
nor knife or arrow or bow,
nor all the money in the world,
not bronze or silver or gold

But there upon my palm
rests more power than all of those,
its weightless form is worth
much more than a treasure trove

It will soar above the mountain,
and go wheeling to the sky,
it will fly across the ocean
and travel far and wide

The feathery touch,
the breifest glimpse,
the splash of color,
a living wish