On a Perfect Day

June 1, 2008
By Cole Whitaker, Huntington Beach, CA

I wander from my door
No idea where I’ll go
I walk the forest floor
Wandering far and near, to and fro

I feel the warmth of rays of sun
Breaking through the leaves of trees
Birch, Poplar, Spruce, all blend into one
It sounds like laughter, the gentle breeze

I emerge from the forest’s canopy without yield
There are lush green hills there to greet
I step onto the swaying emerald field
The sun warmed grass squishes, soft on my bare feet

Butterflies purple and yellow drift by
I take deep breath of fresh mountain air
The clouds look like cotton creatures floating in the sky
To make a sound and break the silence I would not dare.

I flop myself down on the top of a hill
I look deep into the Heaven greeting sky
The open air carries a slight chill
Wishing I could replay every great second that slips by

The sun starts to sink from view
It is like a masters painting in the air behind
The clouds are yellow, orange, and pink of hue
Too beautiful to be comprehended by the mind

The majesty of this great sight
Puts me in a suspending awe of the Lord
Who creates with such power and might
I could forever marvel at his works all my life, and ever be bored

The world is God’s paper
Each day He reaches out his brush
And makes each stroke perfect, without taper
To make a scene that causes all to hush

If only there could be a way
To experience this articulate scene deep in the wood
Every night and every day
I pray to God that I might, that I could

That I could see his beauty in every way
In every face, in every place, in all that I play
And experience once again, a perfect day

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