The warmth of the sun
Permeates my flesh.
I bask in the true beauty
Of your created world
On this glorious summer morning,
And wonder at the depths
To which your majesty goes.
A gentle breeze caresses the boughs
And whispers your promises.
Even the birds praise you,
Joyous in their song,
Crying out in their worship.
I am overawed, Father.
I am humbled by your glory.
The detail in every living thing,
Michaelangelo’s craftwork
Exhibited in the frailest of leaves,
The most delicate of petals.