A WRITING

WRITING



There was an old man,



who sat on a log,



taking a rest,



while walking his dog.


The snow flurries,


started fluttering down,


soon to put a white blanket,


to cover the cold ground.


High in an old maple tree,


a blue jay cries for rain,


and not for snow again.


Now with a pause,


and a sigh,


I thank God,


who watches us,


from His throne on high;


Thank you Father,


for sending your Son,


through His shed blood,


we have salvation,


and a victory won.