There is a place,about a mile away,where I would go,and spend hours every day.
I got on an old four wheeler,on it I would go,
to my quiet place,where the red pine trees grow.
Some days I would see,a doe in the grove,if slowly I drove.
At the right time,late in the day;I would stop,and watch the beaver play.
Most of the time, their play for me,was work to them,and while they swam;
they quickly repaired the dam; while In the branches of the pine,
the blue jays cried,and the squirrels played,with the gentle breeze,
the red pine trees swayed.It became my favourite quiet place to go,
to meditate on God’s word, to keep my outlook on life,
His Words that are sharper than a two edged sword.