A hill, a meadow, a mountain,
God made them all for me
to climb, to romp in, to look at–
how wonderful God must be!
He made the little flowers
that peep up through the earth.
He made the rocks and waterfalls–
how much my world is worth!
It’s rich in clover and daisies
that fragrant the meadow green
and boasts of stately maple trees
that shade the brook between.
Oh, how that God must love me
to give me this to behold!
I’d never trade my mountainside
for a city that’s filled with gold.
© 2014 Freeda Baker Nichols
Château de Cheverny, Loir-et-Cher, France – gardens, lupines and peonies (Photo credit: Wikipedia)
She was a blossom picked for God‘s bouquet,
my mama said regarding Granny Crete.
Then Mama planted peonies in clay
with hope they would survive the summer heat.
the dress I wore
to church that day.
The preacher said that Heaven is a place
where loved ones go to be with God and wait.
And now my mama is there waiting, too.
She was a blossom picked for God’s bouquet.
C Copyright, Freeda Baker Nichols
Dorsimbra pattern. Published in Poets’ Roundtable of Arkansas Anthology