I am the chosen lamb, no other can compare
To the beauty of my face or the brightness of my hair.
My bones are firm and strong, my every part well-formed.
With purity and spotlessness by God I've been adorned.
My master's tender voice has declared I am the best!
His gentle hand and loving staff have led me from the rest,
Away from fence and field to sleep beside him through the night
And help the kids complete their chores by early morning light.
My master, how he loves me, and I love him dearly, too.
Poetry
The trees are waking,
Their leaves taking
Leave from the holes
Where they hid within
The branches branching
From their mighty boles.
The seeds they ceded
Last year to the
Fertile ground below
Are gone, replaced by
Tender shoots,
Preparing now to grow.
What I desire to change
Will oft outlast my will
What I wish would remain
Will leave me (unfulfilled)