by Lucy M. Young
Cooled by a lovely summer breeze,
I followed a cowpath through the trees -
A narrow path, worn smooth and deep,
By the daily passage of cattle and sheep.
Songbirds flitted from tree to tree
Caroling joyously, soaring free
Through the dappled shade of the maple grove,
Secure in their Heavenly Father's love.
My eyes downcast, I searched the ground,
Wondering what treasures might be found
In the grass and weeds by the side of the trail,
Perfect cover for pheasant and quail.
Had I been looking up, I would not have seen,
Partly hidden by a grassy screen,
The four speckled eggs in a tiny nest
Awaiting the warmth of the mother bird's breast.
Oh, for the faith of that little bird
Who built her home in the path of the herd;
With only the grass for her sheltering roof -
Safe by God's grace from each plodding hoof.
Woodsmoke and Cardamom 