Sunday, February 5, 2012


The trees stand weighted
with prophesies of snow;
a burden received,
but not sought.

They preach, these trees,
in snaps and creaks
and the falling away of their glittering
The morning sun clothes them
in brilliant revelations,
while the sky above dazzles
in a far blue emptiness.

With snow melting
on my upturned face,
I wonder if I but stretched 
from the highest branches,
could I send ripples across
its azure smoothness?

But there’s no need.
For yesterday,
the sky came down as snow
to grace the forest and 
the flowers that hide beneath.

In spring, when dying snows 
free every flower from winter's grasp,
I will gather them up, one by one,
into small bouquets for our home.

Each one a reminder that,
like the snow covering the forest today,
grace is given to us all -

just as the promise of spring
is given to the flowers 

by the dying snows.