Grove of Trees

You said that all of this was yours;
through Your spoken word, the water came;
at your request, land arose. You called up trees.
All this, where I sit and ponder,
is proof: Your words create life and wonder.
As I look about, everywhere, I see Your hand.

Man might be Your grandest work, but there is
so much more in the seas, in the air, in the dirt.
Who am I to question whether the caterpillar
crawling on my shoe, or the mosquito,
or the cockroach, are part of your plan?

Bugs bite, I itch, and I question
the need for such bother.
My father told me all is of the food chain;
this is true of every creature, every organism.
I sit under this canopy of countless leaves
and I realize that You, God, designed this world
from the very smallest of cells
to this grove of trees.

© 2016 Steven Barto