WHERE THE RED PINE GROW!


Hiking_Trail_1

There is a place,

about a mile away,

where I would go,

and spend hours every day.

I got on the old bike,

an old four wheeler,

on  it I would go,

to my quiet place,

where the red pine 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,

while they swam;

they quickly repaired the dam.

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 favorite

quiet place to go,

to meditate on God’s word,

to keep my outlook on life,

going straight as a sword.

~Winston Staples

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