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My Time
Many people like the dawn,
With its colors bright and gay,
While others like the dusk,
With its deep mysterious ways.
Some like the night,
When the owls hoot in trees,
And still more like the day,
What with all the light they see.
I prefer the time when,
Time seems to not be real,
When the choir of Earth,
Sings with Heavenly feel.
A time when the animals,
Are as hyper as a child,
Who has eaten too much sugar,
And is all but wild.
The sun is down yet is up,
Not cool and not hot,
With water like little gems,
Making little muddy spots.
The Earth is turning,
And all around the world,
Someone feels the difference,
Of new life, a pearl.
The grass is like an ocean,
Rolling with a breeze,
While the trees are a temple,
To worship God with ease.
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