Margie's Children

by Lea Ann Crisp

They are all around this place
Each one a part of nature’s grace
And all await a sweet embrace
As Margie’s children

She tucks the flowers in their bed
And feeds the birds their daily bread
When morning blooms, each little head
Looks up to greet her

For all the downy, feathered heads
Of subtle grays or brilliant reds
And all the blossoms in the beds
Are Margie’s children

She knows the secrets that abound
And those that hide ‘til she’s around
Like arrowheads in ancient ground
That rise to meet her

The land will lure her with its call
The hills, the bluffs, the waterfall
For all its treasures, big and small
Are Margie’s children

Her caring arms will open wide
To all the things she finds outside
And for the love she can provide
Each one will seek her

And you can count the trees so tall
Or count the birds or leaves that fall
But never finish counting all
Of Margie’s children