wasnít that cloud that caught my eye,
It was Godís perfectly beautiful sky,
All a solid blue except for that,
One puffy white cloud just dancing on by.
A truly wonderful sight and,
I wondering how that could be,
Just that one perfect cotton ball,
Cloud that I could see.
Was our wonderful God speaking to,
The whole world or just alone and to me,
There is nothing as perfect as,
All of Godís works working in harmony.
Everything of Godís creation is,
Beautiful and has a story to tell,
Am I such a person that,
God to me has a story to tell.
Perhaps about all of His wonderful creations,
That I must write what I see,
The pounding of the surf as,
It breaks on the shore from the open sea.
The great golden eagle,
Gliding silently in the morning sky,
While scanning all below,
With its ever watchful eye.
The quietness of the mountain meadow is,
Broken by a meadow larkís song,
That wonderful sound carried by,
A soft breeze as it meanders along.
The swaying in rhythm,
Grass and wild flowers along the way,
A beautiful waltz a symphony of,
Rhythm in their sway.
A single puffy white cloud that,
Might appear in Godís beautiful blue sky,
I will not question Godís reasoning or,
Even ask a question why.
The swift mountain creeks,
cascading down from on high,
Each one telling a story of,
Its creation and why.
Dale L. Neill©
January 19, 2009