I am the winds that rise and blow
Across the hills and hollows.
I am the balmy summer’s day,
The star-filled night that follows.

I am the river’s cruising speed,
The tide that ebbs and flows.
I am the painter of the weald,
The perfume of the rose.

Oh, I compose the linnet’s song—
Her sonnets and her airs.
I am the choreographer
For dancing wild march hares.

The graceful swans upon the lake,
The mallard and her clutch,
Are of the glorious legacy
From Mother Nature’s touch.

For when you see a hallowed moon,
Fresh dew upon the land,
You know I work in unison
With our Lord’s mighty hand.


© by Joseph Browne.
Used here with the author’s permission.