Wenda Grabau © 2011

Shrouded in secret  ‘neath a blanket of snow,

Each singer awaits making entrance.

Nature revives resting voices although

Time must pass before the performance.

Rainbow robes, trumpets bold, smiles aglow–

Their songs burst forth not making a sound.

Look, there is a choir outside my window

Standing stately on green carpeted ground.

 

The silent cantata captures my gaze

When led at the Choirmaster’s direction.

Songsters–arrayed for beauty in praise

Of the Artists’s creative perfection–

Reflect their Creator’s capable style.

With joy, I drink deeply all the while.

 

photo credit: Wenda Grabau