Here I sit on this verge between,
Grey and blue, and all around green.
Little raindrops from the sky,
Fall upon this knoll up high.
Aye, the wind, is but a breeze.
Gust upon gust, nothing to seize.
As I huddle from the rain,
I think of all creation lain:
In the heavens and on the earth
All the glory nature does birth.
Thankful for the life I’ve seen,
As I sit on this verge between.
– Thomas Robinson