Raking Memories

          I shall write to You this morning,
          Of the frost upon the ground,
          Of the squirrels gathering chestnuts,
          And the beauty that's around.
          I will tell You of the woodchuck
          Who is nesting in my yard,
          And of the haughty blue jay,
          Who is always standing guard;
          I'll write of little chipmunks,
          Playing hide and seek in leaves,
          And of the charming web that grew,
          From a spider's artful weave.
          I'll try to tell of flowers,
          Whose day of beauty passed,
          And how I stand in wonder
          As a sunbeam's spell is cast;
          Glistening off the scarlet,
          Drifting on to harvest gold,
          Bittersweet orange of autumn,
          A result of Jack's tight hold.
          I'll tell You of the leaf pile,
          That seems reaching for the sky,
          And the giggles of the children,
          Who jump in and make them fly.
          I'm sure You're standing with me,
          Maybe holding a rake in Your hand,
          Watching the little ones playing,
          While helping me understand,
          Why I need to slow down and notice,
          The beauty You've scattered around,
          And I needed to write and thank You,
          For showing that peace can be found.

[ Bonnie Church © copyright 2001 (bchurch@rochester.rr.com) -- from '2THEHEART' ]


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