Where Ocean Stops And Sky StartsI cannot Tell,But Know they Never Touch,Yet always Touch Sky to Sea,Sea to Sky,Blue on Blue,Of the Same Stuff.

From the crackled mulch of fallen leaves, Brown blanket of sticks and soil,Springs a twelve-petaled piece of sunshine.For a simple heart that still believes,God faithful in spreading joy will,Send a smile from a flower's face to mine.  

Whose door is this?Who passes here, in and out, Over the wooden threshold?Through winter's cold, who holes up here?Who sleeps on a summer day,In this place of refuge,Waiting for night to gallivant?What creature seeks asylum hereSquirreling away stores for hungry days,Stolen pecans, walnuts, hickory nuts?Who calls home This small hollow in a lofty tree?