Walking
through the woods today,
I
wonder who prepared the way.
Whose
boots have made the path I tread?
What
sylvan thoughts were in their head?
Did
they observe these squirrels at play,
who
scoot, then freeze, then dash away?
Did
greenery calm their day's pursuits,
while
they too tripped on surfaced roots?
Did
they see God in bark and leaf?
Did
birdsong bolster their belief
in
Him who takes our every care,
who
gives the very life we share?
Did
they remark their calm-smoothed brow,
then
go back home to ponder how
to
keep this peaceful, forest glade
secure
from axe and dozer blade?
I hope so.
Copyright ©2020, Paul H. Harder II
This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons
BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.
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