The Sculptor
By Shirley R. Fluharty
Puffy clouds of white and gray
Sit quietly in the sky today
While shades of blue come shining thru
And the sun's bright rays shine down on you
A peaceful calm surrounds the trees
With not a movement from the leaves
A big hawk circles, way up high
In search of lunch with his keen eye
An array of color, dots the hillside there
From the lady slippers to the violets rare
This scene a picture of elegant flair
Painted with such Majestic care
A sculptor of the finest breed
Who daily plants His glorious seed
Hi fills my heart, my soul, my mind
And treats me like His one of a kind
The flowers appear on the earth; the time
of the singing of birds is come, and the voice
of the turtle is heard in our land;
Song of Solomon 2:12
