The day is done;
The summer sun
    Has set.
In quiet nests
Soft lovebirds' *******
     Duet.

My fledgling faith
Will soon defy death,
     Ascend,
And fly about
A day without
     An end.

Good morning, God.
The dawning day
Chases night's ghosts
     Away.
The heralds of morn,
The early birds,
Are singing songs
     With words.

Good God, who sees
Each every squirm,
And gives the bird
     The worm,
Give us this day
Our daily bread
(And light and life)
     Instead.

How doth the merry little lamb
     Whose fleece is white as snow,
And who was born a very ram,
     A-frolic to and fro.

He sports and plays, doth safely graze,
     And spots a busy bee;
And for a moment he doth chase
     The bug with mirthful glee.

A moment more, he's crying out,
     And bleating with dismay.
The bee has stung him on the snout
     And marred his splendid day!

Beware, the bee is only friend
     To others of his kind.
The stinger on his latter end
     Was made for lambs to mind.

Yes, life is short.
It's a short cavort.
But when it's done,
You live again
Where time there's none
And never's been.

And when you wish
A pun a star,
The Jesus fish
Were better far,
Since Jesus can,
Yes, save a man.

He makes the sun to rise and shine;
     His breath inspires the wind;
He fattens the fruit, ferments the wine;
     And makes the grape thin-skinned.

Because of Him, raindrops fall
     And early birds arise.
God makes the deaf to hear His call,
     And makes the foolish wise.

[based on a true story]

While searching through dumpsters to see what treasures I could find, I discovered in one a trapped raccoon that had no way out. He was there at the bottom with a couple bags of garbage, looking concerned. The walls were too high for him to climb, but his stomach was bigger than his foresight.  All he could see was food, and he jumped in from an overhanging tree branch. And now he was in a bind that he couldn't get out of.

Being, to him, the very image of God, I solved his problem by carefully laying diagonally inside the scavenger trap a long plank of wood (nearby trash) that extended out of it, into freedom. And even as I was arranging the wood, he was already on it and making his way up.

My Lord, Jesus Christ, thank you for saving the trapped raccoon that was me! and for extending to me the cross that I climbed to salvation!

I'm neither what nor who I'd choose to be
          If such were up to me:
               A most inferior
               Ex- and interior,
          By intelligent design,
                    Are mine,
Even as grace received makes me divine.   

Yet, what I am is not what I shall be
          When Him, the Lord, I see;
               For then the glorious,
               Righteous, victorious
          Person of Christ, my Lord,
                    The Word
Made flesh, will make us two of one accord.