Old Friends

Great delights are found in books,

or on the silver screen;

in plains and forests, chuckling brooks;

in nature’s brown and green.

Each such joy is better still,

if shared with trusted friends

going up that aging hill

to where our journey ends.

Always hold your old friends near

and don’t let friendship end.

Friends of old are truly dear.

We can’t make new old friends.

Copyright ©2020, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.

Walking

I walk across the face of Earth,

delighted that I can.

Beneath the sky, I see God’s worth

free-strewn by His own hand.

Confined between four office walls,

it’s easy to forget

the wealth that from God’s bounty falls

and that we’re in His debt.

Oft, captured by my backlit screen,

its artificial scenes,

oblivious to nature’s green,

I’m buried in machines.

So give me time in open space

and shaded forest glen,

where every glance reveals God’s face

to my enraptured ken.

I’ll walk across the face of Earth.

Copyright ©2020, Paul H. Harder II

This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.