my poem birds fly from empty nests
dear Lord and if Thou think it best
let them fly to the Poetry Tree
where they sing only, all for Thee
sing all for Thee.
strained gold is the track of the world to fame
naming no names that cant be named.
buying and selling and buying again
coveting, wondering who will win.
and who has won today.
I see no contest and feel it so
let everything softly be written in snow
and then drift away
before I hear my leased songs pray
oh for a kingdom where we rule.
beauty in even the least degree
beauty that flies to only Thee
must ever beside You always be.
must always be.
this is my plea.
mary angela douglas 4 march 2020
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