Feather Snow

sparkle twinkle feather snow

fluffy thumpy pillows grow

drifted shifted whitened land

streaming gleaming crossroads sand

moonshine outline porchlight pile

glitter mirror starlight smile

The Hand

The hand that makes the rivers run,

that made the mountains tall,

the hand that calmed the mighty storm,

and formed, from clay, us all.

The voice commands the heavens above

and shakes the earth below,

the voice that whispers guiding words

for you alone to know.

The feet that walked for 30 years

upon this broken Earth,

the feet that were nailed to the cross

to show our matchless worth.

The eyes that saw the sin of man

when man had not been born,

the eyes that saw his only son

beaten, rejected, torn.

The heart that loves a father's love

wholly unconditionally,

the heart that breaks for the lost

and hurts for our iniquity.

The one that died and gave his life

to break the wrong of man's design,

the one that has a plan for me

and his hand in mine.

Salad Laughs

And now for a joke. Groaning is permitted.

What did the salad say before dinner?

Friday

Orange Friday is fall
Blue Friday is blue
Red Friday is hot
As a chimney-stack flue

Green Friday grows up
Gold Friday grows old
Friday in violet
Strikes conservative bold

Black Friday black
With plenty of red
There is and there isn't
Cause to stay in one's bed

Rainbows of Fridays
All colored to suit
Pick what you like
And gather your loot

Words

Words are like beads. You can string them along or just push them around with a pen and watch them sparkle suddenly.