God Speaks to Me
God speaks to me in springtime
When the earth is wet with dew
In the meadows and the prairies
As the grass comes poking through.
In the budding of a flower
On a bright and wondrous day
In the middle of a thunderstorm
As trees begin to sway.
God speaks to me in summer
When the sun is at its peak
In the marshes and the lowlands
As the frogs begin to creak.
In the chirping of a sparrow
On a calm and sultry morn
In the middle of a twilight sky
As day is being born.
God speaks to me in autumn
When the earth is turning brown
In the valleys and woodlands
As the leaves come tumbling down.
In the beauty that surrounds us
On a vast and rolling plain
In the middle of a harvest day
As barns are filled with grain.
God speaks to me in winter
When the frost is on the ground
In the forests and the mountains
As the flakes come swirling round.
In the presence of a full moon
On a cold and stormy night
In the middle of a country lane
When stars are shining bright.
God speaks to me in seasons
When a child is being born
In the middle of a wedding
As the vows are being sworn.
In the valley of the shadows
On a deathbed, I will flee
In the open arms of angels
As Jesus waits for me.
By Marilyn Ferguson
©2001
Illinois
The Hand of God
May the new day bring you blessings
As the light comes filtering through
May your sunrise be as lovely
As a morning draped in dew.
May the wind blow forth a promise
Sending sweet bouquets your way
May life seem a little brighter
As you rise to greet the day.
May the daybreak render pleasure
As the birds begin to sing
May the distant roll of thunder
Bring forth a touch of spring.
May the mist embrace the silence
Like a fire fly in the night
May an angel walk beside you
To hold you in the light.
May the rain caress your body
And life drops flood your soul
May His Spirit come upon you
To cleanse and make you whole.
May the showers come so gently
Running gently through your hair
May you touch the living water
And know that He is there.
May the freshness bring you new life
Pushing through the tender sod
May you pause to pick a flower
And touch the hand of God.
By Marilyn Ferguson
©2001
Grandma's Willow Tree
Looking back and reminiscing
The way things used to be
I recall a little girl of nine
Climbing Grandma's willow tree.
Back into the country
Some quarter century ago
Running barefoot across the yard
Into the tree I'd go.
Its branches held a sweet retreat
I'd ascend when in dismay
Oh, the hours I spent in the tree
To lose myself in play.
The tree was close to perfect
Its willows touched the ground
Greenery hung like a curtain
And completely draped around.
The days I spent under its beckoning boughs
And moments it saw me through
Cherished times in a young girl's life
That years cannot undo.
What I'd give to go back again
To those untarnished years in time
To the fancies of a pigtailed girl
And the tree she left behind.
To be that little tomboy
With jeans rolled to the knee
To dream the dream that she once dreamed
In Grandma's willow tree.
By Marilyn Ferguson
©1987
October's Shawl
October is a lovely month
Wrapped in a flaming shawl
It holds the richest treasures
As the summer turns to fall.
The brilliant leaves swirl to the earth
Colors of orange and brown
Dipped in scarlet and touched with bronze
They fall silently to the ground.
The grass is dying, the flowers are gone
October is taking his stand
He is paving the way for winter
Leaving his mark upon the land.
He does his job so silently
Splashing the woodlands with gold
To be altered by ruthless 'Ole Winter
Who enters so careless and bold.
He will crinkle the leaves that you've colored
Causing a state of despair
And cover the day with a blanket of gray
Forgetting you ever were there.
But, although your radiant flame must die
And the delicate leaves do fall
You've paved the way for snowflake days
As winter drapes your shawl.
By Marilyn Ferguson
©1987
