Literature, Nature, Poetry, SPIRITUALISM, Think About This

I Crushed One, Fallen…

I plucked a leaf and made a whistle
I plucked another and breathed
in  the sweet scent of oranges
 I smiled at so many fluttering on the trees
  I crushed one fallen by the breeze,
 and raked away so many,
 and he said ‘they mess up the yard
I said ‘they have made me a bard’
 I admire the tree as it will by me stand
but he will never look up
 to see how tall it is how grand,
if you look at the spoils
 you will never understand
 what is Gods Will ,
 and the Beauty of His Land

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