| The Bluebird |
| dedicated to Mrs. Mary Davidson |
| A little bluebird Sat on his favorite branch Of his favorite tree. He chirped his pretty little song, Admiring the trees that swayed In the wind. Watching how the great golden sun Gleamed off the river, Turning the water To tiny blue diamonds. He looked down: The grass with its many dewdrops Shimmered more brilliantly than any Emerald. The roses, lilies, daisies, and bluebells All sang hello And greeted him With their delightful fragrance. He looked to the sky-- So perfect and so blue, Like the finest piece of Lapis lazuli. His friends, The soft and lithe gray squirrel And The beautiful crimson cardinal, Called to him playfully. He had not a worry in the world. Somehow, he knew that God Was watching over him. So take comfort! After all, wasn't it a certain carpenter Who said that God loves you More than this little bluebird? |
| �SaraSue Crawford September 17, 1998 |