It may not be summer but we can imagine...
Flowing fields, browned by the hot sun
Reveal the flow of the breeze up and down caressing my sweaty brow
The house is half-painted
I dip the brush and glide it over the outside wall
It covers, masquerading the original hue
I am parched by the noonday sun
It drives me inside my abode
Urges me to quench my thirst with water
And I thirst for God's grace
It is a river that imparts life
Though I am poor, an empty soul
The unfolding of your light draws me to You
You fill me with Your righteousness
You crown me with Christ's character unattained
© Copyright 2009 Tom Toya. All rights reserved.
