Well, I sort of warned you that I'd be continuing my tip of the hat to John Keats with two more odes based on his set of five, so here goes #4:Ben Franklin-like, I rise early and oft retire the same,
I've never heard the nightingale her late night song proclaim.
I, opposed to Keats, do not bemoan my age or solitude,
But choose to write some lines you might think daft or mayhaps crude.
The pictures Heaven often sends through various types of birds,
Reflect the state of mankind's souls in all our various herds.
The first that comes to mind without much fuss or hurry
Is the Mount-spawned Sermon's sparrow wise, that trusts and does not worry.
Grey Havens is the name bestowed upon my current stone abode,
Where other birds than nightingale flock by providential code.
Where sparrow, wren, nuthatch and dove as well as chickadee
Can eat a meal and take a bath, instructing watchers without fee.
Like Jesus' illustrators, they've learned to anticipate
Feedings at set intervals, an expected daily rate.
They'll often hop close to their "Pop," our Francis of Assisi,
As much to say, "It's time today to drop a sugar cookie."
Our red tailed hawk, enjoys a gawk sitting on sassafras limb
At little birds that look like meals...at least they do to him.
He'll swoop and snatch at sparrows who assuredly will fall
According to God's perfect plan that covers one and all.
Your life no less than all these birds' is written in His book,
It's even grace when at future pages you're not allowed to look.
The little guys do hop and peck, take flight and tell a story.
If Bach were from New Jersey now, he'd write, "YO...sola Deo glory!!"
No comments:
Post a Comment