GOLDEN GIFTS.

The trees sway softly in the breeze

Against a sky so blue,

The golden sun beams in across

A sea of morning dew.

          My spirit quickens as I see

          How much God really cares

          To create such beauty just for me;

          Reaching out, I take my share.

                    If man isn’t willing to take the time,

                    How can he truly live,

                    If he looks at neither sky nor sun,

                              I wish that I could save this day

                              And the radiance that I view,

                              But I will hold in memory

                              Its gifts of gold and blue.

                                                             Sara I. Brown

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