The mist that swirls between the trees
Its playful form guided by the breeze
The trees that dot and line the fields
Its numbers wavering as time reveals
The fields that team with colors a bright
All decked with gold and auburn sights
The waters that flow in the babbling brook
Glistening from every sunlit nook
The birds that soar the open sky
Their flocks adorn the heavens on high
The sky that spans beyond what I see
All knit by The God of Majesty
Abby Price