The trees write poems of the beautiful green leaves
The leaves tell the story of the early spring breeze
The sun tells the story of the flowers that grow
The flowers write a poem about the sun's mighty glow

The stream tells a tale of the rocks and the fish
While a lone standing well harbors a wish
The willow writes of shadows that dance in the day
'Til the moon starts to rise and they all run away

The birds and the bees will write of their flight
The wind writes the breeze that makes them so light
The frogs sing a song as the moon starts to rise
The fireflies will dance as they light up the skies

The whippoorwill cries as the stars start to shine
The smell fills the air with some cedar and pine
We copy what we see as the earth starts to show it
Maybe we hold the quill but God is the poet