Wayne Orr

Each dawn, His light spills gold on dew,
A whispered grace in skies of blue—
The breath that stirs the dormant seed,
A love that fills each ache and need.

Through storms, His hands still cradle wings,
In shadows, hope’s soft chorus sings.
The bread of peace, the cup poured deep,
He guards the tears His children keep.

No night too vast, no road too long,
His mercy bends to mend the wrong.
The laugh of joy, the strength to rise,
Are treasures woven through our skies.

So bend the knee, lift heart and voice—
In every blade, His name’s rejoice.
For blessings bloom where faith is sown,
And Heaven’s love calls all you’re known.