It began with a glimmer, a sliver of light.
In a matter of minutes the glow was right.
And the Meadowlark sang its song.
Another Lark………… another, again.
A feathery chorus was now on hand
As The Boy mimicked their song .
More Meadowlarks sang along.
And The Boy became a man.
The Year was not New. It was warm,
There was dew as the day took form
Like a voice from Heaven
The boy of eleven,
Joined the choir of Meadowlark Hill.
This morning was more than a day in the life,
This newborn man
Met the day now rife
With the pleasance of Trill
On The Hill of The Larks.
On The Hill of The Man.
A humble young Man
Said Thank You.
Thank You he said again.
Again and again and again.
By Lee Broom