Diane Wright

Rookie (March 11,1944 / Nashua, Iowa)

Nature's Music On The Hills - Poem by Diane Wright

The leaves are changing colors; red, orange, brown and green.
There is a hint of winter cold weather soon to draw near,
Yet the beauty of God's handiwork makes a landscape serene.
His workmanship says within us we have nothing to fear.

The hills speak forth His majesty noting the Creator's touch.
Trees reflect soldiers strong and attentive as they stand
Displaying their colors so profusely as from an artist's brush,
Creating a blanket of velvet color spread across the land.

The heart is touched by color so vividly arrayed.
His presence seems imminent, and our knees we bow to pray
In humble reverence for our God so colorfully portrayed,
And we forget trials and tribulations that did haunt us in the day.

The peace of God emanates from this scene so fair.
Serenity of the hills causes the heart to sing in praise.
We reach out to Him, and peace overtakes our every care.
Within our heart's still voice, anthems to His glory we do raise.

Listen closely! The hills sound forth with adoring praise.
The trees reach heavenward as if listening with stature stoic.
The foothills complete the picture with animals there to graze,
As the hills become alive with the sound of His glorious music.

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, December 22, 2005



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