Where Wild Ferns Grow

The wild ferns grow, about this home of mine,

Beneath cathedral trees where peace is found.

The silent mountains are green-robed in pine;

And deer are startled by a man-made sound.

The huckleberries grow along the trails;

Gay flowers beautify in nature's bowl.

A master-painting in a gallery pales

Before the work of the Great Oversoul.

The glowing lamps I need are singing stars,

My symphony, a joyous lilting bird.

No blinding walls of greed or hatred's scars

Where silence speaks a sermon that is heard.

Where wild ferns grow upon the living sod,

I hold a daily rendezvous with God.