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