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