Houston summer morning,
everyone was indoors.
The neighborhood fountain
waved a joyful hello;
danced in the ruffling breeze,
whirling her misty skirts
to catch the sun and cast
shifting rainbow colors,
her spirit reveling
in praise of our Maker.
To whom did she beckon?
Copyright ©2018, Paul H. Harder II
This poem is licensed under a Creative Commons
BY-NC-ND 4.0 License.
Jesus said that, if the people kept silent, the very stones
would cry out to praise God (Luke 19:40). If stones, then why not a fountain?
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