Treasures

[benchgal]

It's so hard to find the perfect breeze,
One blowing none too hard nor soft,
Carrying a scent of wild flowers,
And moving clouds about aloft.

It's so hard to find the perfect sky,
One blue and deep and bright,
Carrying a sense of openness
With geese and wrens in flight.

It's so hard to find the perfect night,
One warm, quiet and unflawed,
Carrying a mood of solitude,
And a closeness to our God.

Yet no perfection's so hard to find
As that which you extend
And none I'll ever treasure more,
Than to simply be your friend.