Hawk

When the sunshine calls Will you rise and run To the one who beckons, God’s loving Son? Will the glare off the dew Make you turn away Will the chill of the morn Give you reason to say, “I will love thee Another day”? How long will you slumber? How long can you dream? The flowers have opened The grass is green. “But where are you?” Asks the wind with a sigh. You still are sleeping On your bed Inside.