by Rose Ann Jenneman When I was just a little girl, stretched out amidst a field of hay. My eyes wide open to the sky, on a warm summer day in May. What strange things I began to see, the clouds above me changing shape. Sculpting to look like animals. yet I see a man in a cape. Is that What God looks like I thought. with the sun shimmering behind, Arms slowly moving, stretching out, is it the cloud or in my mind. It doesn't really matter though, because I said a little prayer. I know God's watching over me, in cloud like form, or in the air. |
