The Tranquility of This Land
As I sweep my eyes over the terrain starry bright,
I ponder how this place gives me more than I ever would have hoped
to help me soar.
My mind takes flight, even in the chambers of night,
as this mighty roar of hope and healing washes life
into anything but a bore, and cleans my soul pearl-white.
Brushing and rushing of tickled trees
that lift up my feet and aid me on my walk,
the whistling of the winds that wheeze
in a rhythm like a clock,
The frosting of freckled flecks inflicted by a rock-hard freeze.
Give me my state, my surroundings, and their Craftsman, please,
for to Him in all places will I flock.
Copyright © Davis Smith | Year Posted 2017