The Visitor
-by Ethel Dennison July 1999-
Each morning he comes
strutting around
with head held high
then pecks at the ground.
He cannot fly
but flutters his wings
hop, hopping with glee,
chirp, chirping he sings.
His eyes shine bright
as he seems to say,
"Is there any more
For me today?"
Stretching his neck
surveying the scene
close to and far,
his hearing so keen.
Looking through trees
up to the sky,
is he just wishing
that he could fly.
Of the tree branches
what does he know?
lame, but beautiful
is big black crow.
Come with your burdens
lame like the bird,
find food for today
in my Holy Word.
Then look to the skies
know you are free
spread out your wings
and soar unto Me.
- © Ethel Dennison 1999 -