Clay
Sitting high atop a mountain
God thought of all that He had made
The birds, the fish, the flowers
But the strangest thing was clay
If it's shaped into a bird
Then surely it can't fly
If it moves in water, like a fish
It swims quickly by and by
If it forms into a rosebud
Nurtured by the gay of spring
Then in this clay, I could breathe life
And from it man I'll bring
Copyright © Amy Bohack | Year Posted 2012
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