There will Come Soft Rains

There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,

And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;

And frogs in the pool singing at night,

And wild plum trees in tremulous white;

Robins will wear their feathery fire,

Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;

And not one will know of the war, not one

Will care at last when it is done.

Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree,

If mankind perished utterly;

And Spring herself when she woke at dawn

Would scarcely know that we were gone.

Found this poem by Sara Teasdale today and really liked it. The focus on the little things of nature that are often missed and the emphasis that humans are not the be all and end all of things are appealing to me. So often I hear people describing an event or an aspect human or even natural activity as if they completely and fully understand and all its implications...history has told us otherwise. I like that this poem forced me to slow down and remember that with everything thing that is going on God has given me a gift, painted me an ever-shifting masterpiece and seen to it that my appreciation for it stays strong. Why do I so often lose sight of the simple things God has given?