Unpredictable at best,
This cold winter wind
With snow in its arms
Descends upon the mountain valley
Bitter, cold, dry snow
Caught in whirlwinds
Swirling among the evergreens,
Swooping along rocky cliffs,
Picking us up like a mother cat her kittens
Moving us quickly against its onslaught,
Reminding our small creature selves
Might is not ours,
In case we hadn't noticed.
Thus winds of grace can grow fierce,
Blowing through our lives,
Turning us upside down
Overwhelmed, often helpless,
The gusts of this Divine author
Leaving all asunder.
But in gentler moods
This Artist lets the early snow
Settle around the landscape,
The time of brown in
All shades and shapes,
The dark blue green waters,
The occasional red bark or
Brilliant yellow,
The lingering sandy grass
Grey green tufts accented,
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.
When at last the white snow
Dominates all forms
Clings to the exposed tree's bark,
Decorates delicate branches
Tiny red berries glowing beneath,
Thus heaven makes all white,
Shining clean and wholesome
The Divine birth in this darkest time of year.
