Flowers Grow Everywhere
It seems that flowers grow everywhere,
Touched by the hand of God,
Deep in the valley -- high on a hill,
Peeking through earth's greening sod;
Blest by the sun from the heavens fair,
Kissed by the Summer rain,
Lending a beauty -- magic rare,
Thrilling our hearts again.
Flowers are the wonder of Nature's plan,
Adding their colors so grand,
Blooming profusely in places remote
Throughout all this beautiful land;
Requiring no tending -- yet spreading their seeds,
The wind blows them hither and yon,
Ours to enjoy as they grow wild and free
When cold days of Winter are gone.
Little eyes see and little hands grasp
A bonquet of beauty their own,
The colors -- the magic -- so much that they love
In the meadows where little feet roam.
'Tis God's hand that plants them and bids them to grow
As free as the fresh mountain air,
Treasures unequalled belong to us all,
These flowers that grow everywhere.
Garnett Ann Schultz