Winter Grace

The turn of the seasons
Unpredictable at best,
This cold winter wind
With snow in its arms
Descends upon the mountain valley
Bitter, cold, dry snow
Caught in whirlwinds
Circling the evergreens,
Swooping along rocky cliffs,
Picking us up like a mother cat her kittens
Moving us quickly against onslaught,
Reminding our small creature selves
Might is not ours,
In case we hadn't noticed.

Thus winds of grace
Flow floods through our lives,
Leaving us turned upside down
Overwhelmed, often helpless,
The gusts of this Divine author
Leaving all asunder.

Or perhaps in other moods
This same Artist lets the early snow
Settle around the landscape,
To show off this time of brown
All shades and shapes,
Against the dark blue green waters,
With the occasional red bark or
Brilliant yellow,
The lingering sandy grass
Grey green tufts accenting
The last few golden leaves clinging to
The top outlines of bushes and trees,
The Artist's brush must dapple it seems
In many colored strokes.

And then the white snow
Dominates all forms
Clings to the exposed tree's bark,
Decorates delicate branches
Tiny red berries glow beneath,
Thus heaven makes all white,
Shining clean and wholesome
Nature enveloped in whiteness of light
In the working of Divine graces.