A morning comes in softest step, silent sweet and true
and I wake to see the Lord’s Day under cerulean blue.
The wind sings of Him this day if you listen well
and each truth is there for you to see and tell.
291 posted on 01/04/2009 9:09:01 AM PST by WayzataJOHNN
( Poetry is the jazz of words, laid down by a feeling soul.)