Saturday, September 8, 2007

*The Stage

A canopy of brilliant stars
Hang suspended
Above my head.
The moon glows
A brilliant gold
And the frost shimmers
On the branches
Of the great white birch trees.
The stage is set
For a display of praise.
Everything is perfect
Set for the Sovereign of the World.
I sing my best
And dance as I never have
For my glorious guest
On my glorious stage.

No comments: