Crying, Abba Father
Creation's pigeon, flying to and from; gathering tiny bits of branches that she finds...
Constructing their nest inside this a building's niche; preparing, for her Autumn's child ?
Gracefully she glides without any cares as her heart upon nothing else; blue these skies
The sun shining bright; remembering her stars while catching a wisp, of His Summer's breeze.
Copyright © Johnny Rhinem | Year Posted 2013
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