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Spring is not birdsong’s awakening following Winter’s frozen edge
But migrations left behind, exhausted promised calls instead
of life!
Spring is not Winter’s frozen sheet needling threads of green,
but seeded promise inside shell waiting the unseen.
Spring is not sunshine warming, laughter blossoming delight
but seeded shell’s tenacity, armor against Winter’s darkest night -
trusting.
Spring is not a warm embrace, whispered words of love,
nor aromatic teasing scents set forth from night-bloomed buds
nor hearts testing blinded needs, counting season’s way
as melted memories of what once was
evaporate the worship of each remarkable day.
Winter is forgotten, ego claims its own,
distracted by God’s earthly embrace,
we have forgotten seed’s harvested home.
Yet, what is this? Blanketed prayer, cotton breathe pulls thin through air
stretches, weaves beyond the seen, Spring waits, bountiful to share.
Spring is not east window’s warmth easing all to face the sun
But tomb-shell emptied, bouquets proof that Spring’s planting
has begun
in Winter.
The sun has no course but to follow the light of its own,
sun-showering life over the darkest of nights
in the darkness of our season's home.
The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.
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