Even as gray clouds
obscure blue skies
birds sweetly sing praises to You.
Your name floats along their song
as they lift it onto the morning mist.
even in winter’s frost
You provide for them
and they give thanks.
Stark branches are aerial risers
from which this chorus croons,
Hearing them, I smile, remembering,
though you cherish the birds of the air,
I am your prized possession.