Yellow
Morning by morning the yellow grows. First the daffodils began to wink. Then moments of forsythia find life while I sleep, as if God paints the pallette of my yard only in my slumber. Soon the purple tulips will bring their harmony to the song of yellow. The joy of spring awakening my soul tastes sweet. I am caught up in the romance of my creator. My God knows me. He loves me. He showers me with more flowers every day. He delights in singing life over the sleepy landscape of winter. I delight in watching the colors emerge, listening to the songs of birds gently arouse me and for light to woo a smile from my lips as I open my eyes each morning. When I let the world become quiet, the feast of spring smells so delicious. Will I partake? Or will I be distracted by the lesser things of this world? It is my choice. Everyday. This day, I will choose my God who romances me like no other on a scale unattainable by any other. I simply can't help but smile and perhaps blush a