White Violets

While walking through woods on a spring afternoon,
I saw shining beneath my feet,
Little white stars in a green sky.

As I bent to look closer, I discovered
That they were more like sheep than stars,
Grazing in their little flock, quietly eating earth.

I wondered what they think about themselves.
Are they proud not to be like the other
Dull purple ones – “stupid creatures!”
Or are they quietly confident
Knowing that not even Solomon could dress so fine!

Frog Hymn

A cool breeze blows across my face,
As I peek out at the rain.
The earth smells fresh and the night
Comes alive as the rain drops and distils abundantly.
Drip, drip, drip patters the rain,
And I stop and listen to the small frogs praising God.

I wonder how out of touch my race has become,
That we fail to praise God when it rains.
Maybe it’s because the rain ruins our plans,
Or maybe it’s because we don’t like to get wet.
But probably it’s because our hearts have become too blind,
Too blind to see what a lesser race always sees.

The rain drips down, and still
I stop and listen to the small frogs praising God.