Little eyes, little ears, little nose,
little fingers, little hands, little toes—
along with the start
of one little heart,
So clear with the moon full and bright,
the sky, what an awesome sight.
Try to count every star.
You won't get very far.
The birds, flying South, know the way.
God tells them where and which day.
He has built in the fear,
when Winter is near,
In position and out of sight,
hiding until the time was right,
the cat crawled forward with such skill,
the bird could not escape the "kill." It happened almost every day.