my father paints the summer,
with the colors that will be;
that is what we see.
My father paints the reaching skies,
with cloud puppets for the eyes;
different characters that they be,
some are looking at each other,
some are looking right at me.
My father paints the landscape
that makes up all the ground;
everything that is around.
My father paintsthe quitness,
that only one can hear,
whispers of stillness,
from the heart to the ear.
My father paints a picture
for my soul to see,
the he has made everything
to give blessings onto me.
Mt father paints with perfection,
making brush strokes full of love;
letting me know that he has painted me,
as He smiles down from above.
So, if you ever wonder how grand it all can be.
Look into a mirror, a at the wonderment of thee.