You can feel God through sunsets,
And the bleating of newborn lambs.
Even when you feel like a reset,
God is always here, there: everywhere.
The unseen things matter most of after all,
Whether in the winter, spring, summer, or fall.
His love is great and everlasting,
Something you needn’t be forgetting.
It is now mostly spring,
Momma birds are ’bout done waiting
For the use of those majestic wings.
The strong winds ruffle fur and feathers,
Hence the want for a change of weather.
Underfoot no dry mud crumbles,
Or snow, or leaves for that little rumble.
A few folks found a four-leafed clover,
With a hive of bees hovering over.
March is buzzing like those bees,
Now crowded up in a old, oak tree.