The delicate tiny teardrops
Rolling down a baby's cheeks
They were put there for a reason
To bring attention to it's needs.
The intricate web of a spider
So delicate and fine
To trap it's prey securely
Until the spider decides to dine
The dewdrops on the morning grass
Crystalized and still
The flapping of a birdling's wings
Amid the choir of Whipporwills
As I reflect on all He gave us
To look at and admire
How much more awaits us
In the Heavens, to which we aspire.
Gerti M. Blackwell
June 2012
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