You never know what you will find
Around this rustic house of mine.
The windows are obscure and small
Hung with plain shears, no lace at all.
Some say it is unique,
And others say it's an antique.
No matter what the age or style
It's still my home, it makes me smile.
of all nature abound |
Peering out the window, I hear sounds
Of what is to be revealed,
Just beyond the window sill.
A window pot of flowers quite wilted
After the chilled night air is lifted.
The days are still warm with filtered sun,
Yet night fall brings cold breezes to some.
|My home is
nestled in pines upon a hill, |
And out back, they rise even higher still.
The mornings are filled with singing birds
With the sweetest songs you have ever heard.
mountain peak in the distance |
Are signs of snow and the impending winter.
It's a special time here in the valley below,
My feathered friends are preparing to go.
They will find a home in a warmer place.
It's amazing to watch, as they soar away.
When winters chill is over, and the snow ends
They will come back to my window again.
little window framed in shears. |
I pull back the pane, and new blooms have appeared.
Refreshed again and standing on their own,
And the birds are returning to my mountian home.
God in His goodness, gave me this space
To furnish and care for and live in this place.
I thank Him everyday for the nature around,
Where I will remain till the trumpet sounds.
2 Corinthians 5: 1~2
For we know that if our earthly house of this
tabernacle were dissolved, we have a building
of God, an house not made with hands, eternal
in the heavens. For in this we groan, earnestly
desiring to be clothed upon with our house which
is from heaven: