As He rises with the early dawn

He moves the heavens to create the morn.,

He pulls back the curtain of cloud,

gently, swiftly, never loud..

He observes the sky, it’s colour grey

as He ponders the newness of this day;

Slowly He takes His brush to choose,

not gold, or grey, but perfect blues;

With thin strokes He sweeps the sky

creating a picture pleasing to the eye.

Then with just a little fire…

He paints the sun for all to admire,

A spot of white placed with care

produces a cloud  just here and there;

A little gold to give that glow

To show the world He loves them so!

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