Summer’s gone, Winter’s turn,
Sunshine fleeting, nights get long.
In stillness, a heart beating
Listens for dawn’s sweet song.
Curled up by the fire’s light,
Easily burned, there’s pain.
Endlessly, time marches on
Nothing stays the same.
Night unrolls glittering wares,
A blanket, specially made.
Pinpricks of hope pierce the dark
Until even darkness fades.
At last, fleeting at first,
The melody gets strong.
So familiar, you realize
You were singing all along.

A Winter Song

Poetry, Writing

The Goodness of Being Small

Faith & Spirituality, Poetry, Writing

there’s a goodness in small,

a stature of humble bowing

in dependence outside of self,

acknowledging

I am not mountain,

nor am I sea, 

despite all my striving,

all I claim to be.

for the One who planted mountain

poured out the sea

painting His glory 

for all to see.

and here in my smallness,

my eyes look to mountain 

and waves breaking for shore,

delighting in

each grand reminder 

from my Father above

how tall

how wide

how deep 

is His love.

as