I Control Nothing
Written: by Tom Wright
January 2015
Like an Appaloosa’s rump,
The sky was so flecked.
Or with sparkling diamonds,
That God had bedecked.
The aroma of fresh hay,
Had hitched evening’s breeze;
While an un-molested Owl,
Spoke loudly from the trees;
Now wordlessly engrossed,
In this creation by God’s hand;
I speculate on my tomorrow,
And what He has planned.
Copyright © Tom Wright | Year Posted 2015
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