Nature
When the wind is making its rounds,
We know it’s going by,
When the grasses start wavering,
And the trees let out a sigh.
When day begins to break,
With pink paint spilled through the sky,
The birds start their songs,
Before the sun begins to rise.
When ambling through a meadow,
Insects leap left and right,
The meadowlarks are singing,
Before the close of night.
When crouching in a forest,
A crow sounds a warning cry,
The rabbit dashes to its hole,
And the deer no longer pass by.
When traveling through a swamp,
The gators croak and growl,
Ospreys don’t mind your coming,
But water birds start to howl.
When sitting to observe a flower,
Whether daisy or tulip blue,
Don’t forget its Maker,
Who created nature too.
When high up on a mountain top,
With falcons circling around your head,
Coyotes howling through the night,
Keeping you out of bed.
When observing a tiny fallen leaf,
Think of the role that it played,
High upon a treetop,
Absorbing the sun’s gentle rays.
When wading through a woodland stream,
With water-bugs dancing on top,
Houses many little fishes,
But never seems to stop.
When day begins to close,
Many things run to their dens,
The sun shoots orange fare-wells,
For it has so many friends.
We know it’s going by,
When the grasses start wavering,
And the trees let out a sigh.
When day begins to break,
With pink paint spilled through the sky,
The birds start their songs,
Before the sun begins to rise.
When ambling through a meadow,
Insects leap left and right,
The meadowlarks are singing,
Before the close of night.
When crouching in a forest,
A crow sounds a warning cry,
The rabbit dashes to its hole,
And the deer no longer pass by.
When traveling through a swamp,
The gators croak and growl,
Ospreys don’t mind your coming,
But water birds start to howl.
When sitting to observe a flower,
Whether daisy or tulip blue,
Don’t forget its Maker,
Who created nature too.
When high up on a mountain top,
With falcons circling around your head,
Coyotes howling through the night,
Keeping you out of bed.
When observing a tiny fallen leaf,
Think of the role that it played,
High upon a treetop,
Absorbing the sun’s gentle rays.
When wading through a woodland stream,
With water-bugs dancing on top,
Houses many little fishes,
But never seems to stop.
When day begins to close,
Many things run to their dens,
The sun shoots orange fare-wells,
For it has so many friends.