How very discontent was I,
with time or place or season.
The world was dark, absent of spark.
To live? I saw no reason.
In spring I dreaded constant rain,
and clouds pressed me to earth
When thunder crashed and lightning slashed,
they spoke of death, not birth.
The summer brought a glaring sun
and scorched my weathered skin.
All blazing light, ’til only night
gave respite from heat’s sin.
The leaves of autumn crunched beneath
the bones of oak and maple.
The dead abound, strewn on the ground,
bleak thoughts my daily staple.
Too soon arrived the bitter cold
and blizzards’ icy blasts.
Exploding trees fell to their knees
and lay like fallen masts.
With empty soul, I drew my knife
to cleave through all the pain.
‘Twould end that life replete with strife,
dark storms, depression, strain.
“Who’s there?” I startled, from a voice
that spoke of grace and love.
“I Am,” said He, “I offer thee,
pure comfort from above.”
The autumn of my earthly span
was blessed with youthful sight.
The things that were no longer blur
my vision to the light.
Behold! The springtime crocuses
sport rainbow gems from showers.
A frog competes with robins’ tweets
while Bambi noses flowers.
A trumpet vine spreads waiting arms;
bees enter its embrace.
With summer’s bliss I feel the kiss
of sunshine on my face.
I breathe the scents of burning leaves
and apples on the ground.
A thrifty squirrel inters a nut
while blackbirds mill around.
In winter’s midst, I’m now content,
delighting in His love.
I’ll ne’er forget the day I met
my Comforter above.
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