I write to better see a sunset;
wrapped in words man cannot utter.
To learn the language of the wind,
to taste the flavor of raindrops,
to dance atop springtime clouds,
to let the sun find my skin’s shadow,
and then to exclaim I know where
it all came from in syllables sung
by birds and bugs on crisp early morn;
as I sit listening perched in an old oak.
“They who dwell in the ends of the earth
stand in awe of Your signs; You make
the dawn and the sunset shout for joy.”
Linking up at dVerse…