I’m not much good at praying

In words I’ve learnt by rote

For angels, saints and heaven

Seem, so far and so remote.

When I need inspiration

No matter what the hour

I go into my garden

And just contemplate a flower.

For flowers pray the livelong day

They have no need of words

Their gentle fragrance rises

With the music of the birds

To the Artist who has coloured them

In shades of every hue

That reflects eternal beauty

As they reach towards the blue.

Some blossoms keep the evening watch

And some close for the night

But open when the sunshine

Kisses them into the light.

And I’m reminded of the Artists word

When my thoughts turn unto Him

Who extolled the lilies of the field

That neither toil or spin.