The cold slips in beneath the door
And shimmies fast across the floor
Leaving behind a lasting chill
As icy fingers often will.
No matter where it is I go
I am no fan of frost or snow
And wish I had a magic wand
To shoo the cold to places yon
What bliss t’would be to bide somewhere
That warmth is free and everywhere !
Oh blessed Lord, please hear my plea
And save a piece of sky for me
A dusky eve or starlit night
Perhaps a rainbow’s sweet delight.
And for your pleasure, I will raise
A song of love and joyous praise
Come join me Lord and hear me pray
That you’ll take me with you to stay !
I watch the stars fade in and out
So patiently, night after night
And wonder why they’re so devout
And why they shine so clear and bright.
Sometimes I fear that cannot last
For even stars fall out of sight
Oh, what an image they have cast
With their eternal blinking light !
Today we rose to sunny skies
While not expecting some surprise
The winds that blew seemed well behaved
Tree limbs and branches all were saved.
Soon autumn will reach our front door
And summer breeze will blow no more
Before too long the year shall pass
Like shadows in the looking glass
Oh Lord, give all the pow’r to rise
Once more to sight sweet summer skies !
Now you and I have been around
Among these feelings we have found
Though they are not of wide import
Somehow we’ve managed to have caught
This glow that captures happiness
And triumphs love o’er great success
For life is more than what it seems
It’s smiles and hopes and all our dreams !
Red, fuscia, purple, lime and green
These are the colors to be seen
With yellow, orange, pink, white, blue
To celebrate the springlike view,
Around the corners, every shade
And tint of green the Lord has made.
A myriad of colors bright
To lighten up each local sight
How did the Lord know long before
The beauty of His world decor ?
We thank You, Lord, for this Your gift
You sure know how to spirits lift !
The wind, it whispers in the breeze
And blows its breath into the trees
It sings a song of joyousness
That’s gathered in the robin’s breast.
The mockingbird sounds crisp and curt
He does not wish a songbird hurt
And mimics all he can, but still
He stops short of the whip-poor-will,
You’ll hear the chorus of each bird
It is the best I’ve ever heard !
