Poetry

In the morning when I draw my eyes to slits against the bright light
there is magic
that the new morning brings
while I know that I am really living
and I see the butterflies already fluttering on the breeze,
hear birds of which the songs of joy penetrates the soul
and every bee, even the smallest thing
are busy with a praise song.
When dew on the branches are still shining like diamonds
and the sun glitters with every ray in filigree
there are flowers opening their cups
and even though my life at times feels bitter
and this kind of living feels like only a curtailed existence
I do know that I serve an omnipotent God.