Alive
Gift of alive, sun on my face,
Inspite of myself receive undeserved grace.
Reminded of awe as meadowlark sings,
Simplicity of its praises melodically rings.
Pastoral surroundings, horses lazily graze,
In gift of warmth on late Winter's day.
Hush falls at times and draws my ears,
Then crescendo of creation's rustle becomes clear.
So much to be grateful for,
So much life yet to explore.
Love yet to discover,
All to be known and uncovered.
This day will never be again,
Gratefulness wears a smile and grins.
No matter what comes today,
Find that place of gratitude to display.
About the Author: Brian Bucks lives on a small horse ranch in Western Nebraska and is a husband, father, electrical engineer, and poet.
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