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No one taught the bird
where to fly and when.
No one tells him when
his song should begin or end.

No one taught the ant
how to provide,
    and he never asks why.
No man showed the bee
how to fly.

There was never a lesson
to teach the whale to sing,
or school to teach the spider
to work the puzzle with his string.

No one taught the forest
to whisper with the breeze,
or how to offer-up
the incense through itís trees.

No artist,
though he may try,
could match one color,
    in one sunset,
of brother sky.

No poet,
though his heart be torn,
could cry with sister moon,
   left in her night,
forever to mourn.

No philosopher had to explain
majesty to the mountain reaching high,
or the power of a stream
to the canyon deep, and wide.

Simply they are,
and simply they do,
what their Creator
told them to.

This poem is © copyright by mark macdonald

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