Helicopters
Swooping for the warm green grass blades
Whirling with the rushing gusts
Single winged seeds fly air raids
‘Neath the trees who in them trust.
Blades of metal? They will rust.
Man does not outdo his Maker
In the smallest of His toys.
We create with metal, larger,
Cruder crafts, with much less joy.
We create with serious ardor...
But when God creates
He is like a little boy
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Einar Trosdal
I also have a Twitter, guys, in case you care to know. And if you don't care, I apologize, I'll still keep writing though. So give me a follow, Go! @PoetryOriginal
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