The Day I Touch Winter
As fall departs and winter comes
My heart bursts with joy and my spiritís now aflame
In me, a fire of ice and a flame so cold burning within me
Iím amazingly amused.
In the place I now live and move and have my being,
Only two seasons can I enjoy and experience:
The dry season and the wet one.
No snow, nor flakes nor frost have I touched or cherished.
I couldnít imagine what snow is like.
I couldnít feel
a snowflake on my face,
a crystal of snow on my neck
Or a snowball on my bare hands.
I wonder how the white cold powder feels in between my toes
or how smooth and soft should snow be in my legs.
I wonder how snow smells like.
White men talk of winter scents and smell,
Of snow covered streets,
and winter trees and rooftops,
Of bare trees and white-blanketed fields.
What joy it must have been
for the first snowflakes to land on your hair,
A feather of soft snow to touch your face,
the gentle winter breeze to caress your cheeks, your neck and back!
How ecstatic it must have gushed within your veins
to see the brown fields turn white,
The yellowish woods buried in the purity of snow white clad,
Jackrabbits and squirrels scampering around the white panorama,
The blue jays and the cardinals and the robin birds of winter
Dotted an immaculate white scene
I wonder why they call this as winter blues and winter blahs
Or winter doldrums and holiday depressions.
Oh, how they miss the joy of God's own winter brings!
Isnít winter a joy of heaven?
A piece of heaven on earth as it is for each of the seasons?
Isnít winter an expression of His cleansing?
Making hearts and minds as white as snow?
Isnít winter as beautiful as spring or summer or fall?
Without the winter,
wonít it be like the day without the night ?
or night without the day?
Won't it be like an existence without His peace
without His joy,
without His love?
Oh, the joy of winter - a piece of heaven on earth!
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