God's Chosen Ones

When I die I'd like to come back;
a bird in a great tall tree.
Birds must be chosen ones of GOD,
to fly so high and free!
They must love the wind,
the way you see them gliding in the air.
They fly so very high and far,
without a single care.
On cloudy days, you see them out...
They must love the baths from rain.
They don't run and hide!
storms give them no fear, no pain.
Where do all the little birds go to die?
Do they just fall out of the sky?
On any day you look out-they are there, flying o so high.
Once in a while you'll see one,
where an enemy has scored.
But, BILLIONS OF BIRDS? Have you ever wondered?
Are they picked up by the HAND OF THE LORD?
YES! THEY ARE GOD'S CHOSEN ONES!

Edie J. Holdgrafer
Copyright @2001