The Springs

Swirling Steaming Mists rise

O’er the ancient lake

Beams filter through hazy

skies on lazy morning break


Creatures stir to nature’s songs

that greet the joyful day

Robins, cranes, and whipoorwills

enact the native play


Golden rays illuminate

all green and living things

In this dawn we celebrate

A milieu for the kings


Meander sweet slow river!

Bent by force unknown

You carry with you secrets

From a time before the dawn


 But if you ever wonder

Whose hand has shaped these banks

God has shown his promise

that to Him we must give thanks

This entry was posted in Poetry. Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to The Springs

  1. Becky says:

    So pleasant to read this after a long day, and to be thankful for all natural things visited, respected, admired, and adored.

  2. Jonathan says:

    Thanks, Becky, and safe travels.

  3. Becky says:

    Home again. Write, my friend.

  4. Lisa says:

    I wonder if people have the time to experience any of the lovely sites you describe in your poem. Beautiful!!

  5. Jonathan says:

    That spring was in my backyard in Longwood, Florida, in the very heart of a fairly major Orlando suburb. It was amazing that so much nature could coexist so closely with humans.

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