Morning Gift

early morning on the dock

promise of a beautiful day

breakfast shared with the bluegill

into the canoe, still in pjs

eagle soaring overhead

oriole and kingbird flitting by the shore

mountain laurel in full bloom

dragon flies darting by

downy cattail dispersing its seed

paddling hard against the wind

face warmed by the Son

ready to start a new day

Shared at Magical Monday

This is My Father's World

This is my Father’s world, and to my listening ears
All nature sings, and round me rings the music of the spheres.
This is my Father’s world: I rest me in the thought

 Of rocks

and trees,

of skies

and seas; His hand the wonders wrought.

This is my Father’s world,

the birds their carols raise,

 The morning light, the lily white, declare their Maker’s praise.

This is my Father’s world: He shines in all that’s fair;

In the rustling grass I hear Him pass;
He speaks to me everywhere.

This is my Father’s world. O let me ne’er forget
That though the wrong seems oft so strong,

God is the ruler yet.

 This is my Father’s world: the battle is not done:
Jesus Who died shall be satisfied,
And earth and Heav’n be one.

Trees by Joyce Kilmer

I think that I shall never see

A poem lovely as a tree.

A tree whose hungry mouth is prest

Against the sweet earth’s flowing breast;

A tree that looks at God all day,

And lifts her leafy arms to pray;

A tree that may in summer wear

A nest of robins in her hair;

Upon whose bosom snow has lain;

Who intimately lives with rain.

Poems are made by fools like me,

But only God can make a tree.

Winter Wanes

Winter came down to our home one night?Quietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow, And we, we were children once again. ~Bill Morgan, Jr.


Where does the white go when the snow melts? ~Author Unknown





One kind word can warm three winter months.  ~Japanese Proverb








Antisthenes says that in a certain faraway land the cold is so intense that words freeze as soon as they are uttered, and after some time then thaw and become audible, so that words spoken in winter go unheard until the next summer.  ~Plutarch, Moralia




One of my current pet theories is that the winter is a kind of evangelist, more subtle than Billy Graham, of course, but of the same stuff.  ~Shirley Ann Grau



The more it goes The more it goes on snowing.

And nobody knows How cold my toes How cold my toes Are growing.

The more it snows The more it goes The more it goes On snowing.

And nobody knows How cold my toes How cold my toes Are growing.

A.A. Milne

Sled Dog
By Sonja Bouchard

I run and run until I get tired.
I frolic in the snow until there is no more.
I’m quick, and
I’m slick.
I am the fast sled dog.