When its morning on the
Mountain,
And the bluebird sings
Her song,
There's a joy that fills my being,
And I want to sing along.
Morning mists that rise so gently
To reveal an azure
Sky--
Banks of fireweed bloom in
Meadows,
Bringing color to my eye.
Sparkling water shimmers,
Ripples.
Silvery trout begin to feed.
And the quiet of
The forest
Reaches out to every need.
Stands of spruce so tall and
Stately,
Lend their scent to
Warming air.
And my worries seem to
Vanish,
Leaving me without a care.
Would that all could share
This wonder,
Come away refreshed and
Whole.
Share a morning on the
Mountain.
Feel God's peace fill up
Their soul.
copyright 2002 Nona Kelley Carver
Grandma's Bible
Index Evening
Prayer