In every morning just at dawn
God turns His sounds of nature on.
All through the day this symphony
Plays heaven’s music endlessly.
The wind that in the willows sings
Repeats the whir of angels’ wings.
The turtledoves commence to coo
To search for sweethearts they would woo.
In summer swallows swoop down low;
They’re humming, crooning as they go.
A choir of birds has varied call;
The mockingbird will try them all.
The geese go honking as they fly
Across the darkening fall sky.
The dry leaves, drifting from the trees,
Are rustling with the passing breeze.
In winter the soft sweep of snow
Brings whispers to the land below.
The sleet that pounds with icy pings
Makes bruises with the stings it brings.
As raindrops to spring flowers near,
They turn their heads so they can hear.
Then with a rhythm of romance,
To patter of the rain, they dance.
The gale brings warning with its sound
Of blowing tree limbs all around.
The evening storms reverberate
With roaring thunder until late.
The rivers rush right to the sea,
Creating their own melody.
The surfs of ocean pound and crash
As high upon the shores they lash.
In orchestra the animals
Compete with rushing waterfalls
To play their parts instinctively—
No stranger concert could there be.
The bull frog belts out loud “kerthumps,”
Which echo in ponds where he jumps.
And then at night the owls ask, “Who?
Who played this program just for you?”
Do you think God uses a baton
To wave His music off and on,
Or does He smile in accolade
For this creation He has made?
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