I see trees receive the wind
And bending send it back again,
To thunderheads that shake my ground
And soak my skin and spin me around.
And I say Amen.
Yes I say Amen,
To every gift that You may send.
Hear whitewater sing her song,
She puts my mind where it belongs:
At the riverside, whole,
With a soul washed clean,
As she flows in praise of all things green.
Sunshine cuts through rain and hail
And lays its lovely rainbow tail.
Now my brain knows it’s just prism rays
But my soul sings out in grateful praise.
© and ℗ 2003 Marques Bovre