I Think I Shall Write A Poem

And these things write we unto you, that your joy may be full.

1 John 1:4

I think,
I think I shall write a poem.
All about life, as I see it,
And just what it means to me.
About trees in the forest,
About the leaves upon those trees,
About the inhabitants (creatures) of that forest,
And of their joy of being free.
Have you ever seen a little squirrel,
scampering fearfully,
from the very presence of a person passing through?
And how,
beyond human comprehension,
he finds enough for bare existance.
Secures and stores for himself,
And for his family, too.
"I think" he's happily busy.
As I pause and observe the tiny honey bee working diligently,
he flits from vine to vine,
blossom to blossom,
gathering nectar by the hour.
He doesn't get tired or discouraged,
nor does he ever loaf.
Never pausing in his assignment to gather,
The sweetness, from the millions of colorful, pretty flowers.
"I think" he is happy.
I think of the meadow,
So peaceful, beautiful and green.
As it feeds those pretty cattle,
where they're content and so serene.
"I think" they're at peace.
I feel the wonderful,
invigorating,
exciting breeze as it tumbles through my hair.
It's presence can't be seen or grasped,
yet still,
I know it's there.
"I think" of the continuity in nature.
I walk through the valleys,
So lush with it's myriad of nature's verdant growth.
I climb the colorful, craggy hills,
to view the valleys and the hills;
to see,
to grasp,
to feel,
to descend.
I find myself aloof.
"I think" of the beauty of God's creation.
I hear the people,
I hear,
I feel their joys,
their fears,
and their pain.
They only try to make the best of their lives,
Because they won't pass this way again.
"I think" of compassion.
I think Life is great,
even with all the heartaches,
the tragedy,
and grief.
There's so much joy in sharing,
life's bounties in love.
It counterbalances all else,
in yourself and others,
belief.
"I think" of life and the great provision thereof.
by
James Gargus

"I am so weak that I can hardly write, I cannot read my Bible, I cannot even pray, I can only lie still in God's arms like a little child, and trust."
Author: Taylor, Hudson

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