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RECOGNITION I knew you when the infant
Earth was new and lovely— morning stars in chorus sang and all the Sons of God were joyful then. God spanked her tiny bottom and set her spinning in her revolutions; we knew how right it was and clamored among those who applauded their consent. She may be like a tree that sprouts and buds and blooms and dies each seven thousand years or so— and leaves her ice-age markers and old chalky bones where life has been; but, what is that to us, who, somewhere deep inside, hear morning stars still sing when fingers touch, who silently shout for joy, "I knew you when. . ." By: Betty Edmondson
WHAT A WONDER!: By Wanda Mason
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