Sand Hill Crane

>>> Focused always on going forward, Seldom, ever, Looks Behind <<<

Sand Hill Crane
By Arley Steinhour 032817

Flowers bloom, across the land,

Red, Blue, Orange, and Yellow,
Showing, the touch of God’s Hand,
As, Rain falls, softly, and Sun-light Mellow,

The Sand Hill Crane, fly’s Overhead,
Sailing, North, to Hatch new Generation,
In a flight through Nebraska, to be Fed,
Like, neck in hour-glass, Space Compaction.

Southern, Nebraska, seems be the ‘Neck,’
Flights focused on Central to land and Feed,
Once crops are filled, and strength is back,
They form into groups, that spread, like weed.

Some to the North, some Nor-West and Nor-East,
Headed to ancestral Summer Home, for Nestage,
Where, fishes are many; in streams, they Feast,
As well as on Land, they dine, for Flight-Plumage.

Once Summer does wane, and Winter Threatens,
With their new members, will take to the air,
Now headed South, their yearly story Deepens.

Through the ‘Hour-glass neck’ to Nebraskan’s Despair.

With, Sand Hill Crane, we know not ‘hour nor day,’
Just like our Jesus, coming Home for His Bride,
Like a Thief in the Night, He must do it ‘His Way,’

All we need do, is be ready, with lamp lit, we Abide.

‘Redeemed, Clean of Sin,’ Man, much like the Crane,
Need do as we need do, to Grow the Chosen Flock,
Some in Mortality, like Crane, suffer, Much Pain,

But, True to ‘Crane’s Path,’ we don’t need to ‘Peacock.’

AMEN