A Few of My Favorite Things, part 1

A gnarled tree,
Bent by the winds
Seeking the sun.
Alone
but not lonely.
Boughs that bow
as if knowing they perform
for only One.
The Producer.











A child's hands.
Soft little fingers curled around an orange crayon,
Studying the next stroke,
Staying in the lines.
Or not.
Boy's fingers in need of a good scrubbing
Most of the time.
My precious artist.







Storm clouds in the evening
Silent
Their hush announces the presence of God
in His heaven
Just in case you missed Him
When the sky was blue.

Squirrels frolicking in the trees
Stopping only to notice that winter
Must be coming.
"This playground of mine," says he,
"does not hide me as well as it once did."

"Maybe I should stop playing and get busy looking for
acorns to hide. Or maybe I'll just wait another day.
As for nuts, I think the lady taking this picture of me
is the biggest one around here. She thinks I don't notice
her, but I do."