Still, serene, cosmic scene,
Dancing in the twilight ‘fore dusk.
Gentle summer breeze, floors of green,
In God’s creation I trust.
Away from the streets, the busy speed,
The needs, the deeds, and the fees.
As the trees recite their creed, come, follow me,
Away from the bustle and flux.
And then I lend my ear to hear what this creator is telling me.
The flurry of gust drops in,
Up, down, left and right,
Not in disarray, but rehearsed untroubled maneuvers,
As if He breathed, and waved through the countless timber fingers.
As if in that moment, the gust,
Gave them life, made them youthful,
Dancing in the breeze, simple,
And I notice the daffodil, right by my feet,
And recall what Sir William had said,
Daffodil on its own, had anyone known
Seen it unique, apart from the rest?
And then did I see,
What was being said to me
A unity, purpose at best.
Cause how could the tree be without the leaves,
Each purpose, large or small, must commence.