The jacaranda proud and prim
Wears its purple trumpet skirt,
Fine ferny leaves on gangly limbs,
Purple petals quaintly pert.
I rest beneath its speckled shade
Contemplating rhyme and verse,
A slight breeze stirs a mauve cascade
Scribbled notes with blooms dispersed.
I gather up my scattered thoughts
From the purple spangled sod;
My words compared to blooms are nought
Pointing seeking hearts to God.
I ponder long where blossoms fell,
Sole witness to their grandeur--
Fleeting moment speaks so well—
Life is a passing splendour.
God’s works speak loud from far and near
Throughout all His creation,
For eyes that see and ears that hear
In unceasing revelation.
Don’t treat life’s blooms with scant esteem
Blindly ignoring witness;
“Our God exists” is nature’s theme—
No need to dwell in darkness.
Through purple blossoms and my thoughts
By gentle breezes blended,
What rhymes and rhythms have been wrought!
What truths I’ve apprehended!
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