Winter

Winter Prayer

O Lord, please close the
eyes and ears of my soul to mammon’s
every whisper and murmur.
How can I mirror Your perfect image
and likeness, if behind
my own rolled stone lies my
flesh as master?

Winter Writing

And thus, I return to my
writing, after a hiatus in autumn
lasting into winter, a soul
appearing adrift amongst the lost…
but maybe never far gone,
but rather more like Saint Paul –
restored at cold night to my
bridled, waiting horse.

Ode to Jesus

So much of You
is mystery,
so much of You is
Bethlehem stable and
Calvary Cross.

So much of You
is shadow,
so much of You is
Light o’ercoming doubt
of Thomas.

Winter Ode

O’ hardened hearts,
Do you despair as if gone fore’er
Is your spring, and as if
Your fate is to eternally
Hang flash-frozen in drips
Attached to this winter field’s
Meanderings?
O’ hardened hearts,
Nothing stays frozen fore’er,
E’en if it be on a
Branch which someone
Happened by, reminding them
Of what they want not
To remember.

O’ Fallen Leaf

Like an unexpected
Hug you are to me, or an
Extended palm to
Grasp in blessing, but
‘Something’ good you
Definitely seem – a leaf to
Wish me goodbye,
E’en as we’ve just met and
Say our first hello,
Each in mystery passing,
Each cloaked in our
Seasonal disguise to
Face the cold.

In Thanksgiving

And so this rose
Is offered thee at the behest of
The night’s mood.
It has arrived from a
Distant winter’s clime, where
Despite frost and tundra,
It has at the touch of
Truth bloomed.