Shadows of the mountains reach across the
desert sand.
Mighty ocean waves become a drop upon
my hand.
Red and yellow blossoms wet from
morning rain.
The call of the loon and its lovers
sweet refrain.
Masterpieces all, each in their
special way,
Concocted by the Master, they say in
seven days.
Seven days or milleniums it changes not
the truth,
His masterpieces stand above times effort
to dilute. |