It’s been a dark winter.
It was a long and lonely fall.
Yesterday, the only sunny morning of the week, I took a walk outside.
I breathed in the beauty of the Creator,
And I felt refreshed.
There was a sense of something bursting forth…
Something I know not what, yet.
This is the season of the poets:
Something within our bones swells with joy
When we experience this renewal of the land
When the flowers bloom and the harsh ground turns green again.
Its a rush to see the luscious forrest once more, no longer the barren wasteland.
We say, ‘Yes, all can be well again–
After winter must come spring, it must.’
We need this grace, we cherish it.
As much as we need the sun to come up each day
and the rain to fall on the sinners and the saints.
Rain, what beauty, what grace!
The showers, the storms, the drenching,
The power that causes the blossoms–
We need that grace too.
Drink deep, little earth, little heart,
And bloom, bloom, blossom little daughter.