He Is Poem by Thomas Plotz

He is loved so much that the trees,

Will wave their branches;

Like being pushed by the wind, to honor him


In the sea,

Whales will rise up

Breaching with exuberance


In the meadows, sunflowers would follow the sun

From east to west, till night had come

In the morning they would do it again, again and again;

When it rained they would hang their heads

To protect their growing seeds;

On cloudy days they would just look south

Almost like they could see somehow,

That the sun wasn't shining,

Yet, he is always there

T. Plotz
He Is
10 January 2019