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God's finger

The complex yield of summer days

The sun's soft rays that turn to hail

The tender shoots down lover's lane

The flowers we pick that come again


The dappled sunshine through the trees

The storm clouds building in the east

The birds fly low they sense the change

As thunder rolls and rainbows wait


The sky turns dark the storm is near

The rabbits run, the sheep, the deer

The wind blows wild, the sun turns pale

Big summer blobs here comes the rain


Lightning strikes the old church tower

God's finger saying 'I am the power'

How clear the air, how green the grass

The flowers stand up the storm has passed

©Joseph G Dawson


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