S. Robert Christensen
When all about is quiet, still
And raindrops whirl across the hill,
I like to stroll on sparkling paths -
Watch dusty leaves take noisy baths.
The brook's thin notes become full song
As new choristers join the throng.
Wilting blooms dance in thankful glee
That heaven's ear has heard their plea.
Earth's breath is sweet; air freshly clear.