In Praise and Awe of Winter

I stood on my stoop

And raised my eyes.

Startled,

I stared at the sun

As it peeked over the rooftop,

Igniting sparkles of light on the new fallen snow.

Slowly I moved my gaze around.

What was different?

What had changed?

The landscape,

Once so vibrantly colorful,

Was now hidden away

Under winter’s glistening white coverlet.

Autumn, having admirably executed its annual tasks,

Had stepped gracefully aside.

Gone was the grass,

Leafless the trees and bushes.

Only conifer and holly now shine forth the promise of green and declare,

“We are not gone. We will return.”

Winter now sits securely upon the season’s throne

Its unique mysteries to unfold.

Days later temperatures plummet.

Cold you can feel in your bones.

Cold that knows uniquely

The comfort of a cup of steaming hot cocoa.

Cold that takes hours to fully warm up from.

Then more snow.

Small flakes.

Puffy ones.

Falling steadily,

Silently,

Persistently,

Relentlessly.

Straight down,

Then sideways,

Back and forth,

At the mercy of wind’s capricious personality;

Piling up to heights

Above my boots.

Just as I warm to the joys

Of a new season’s beauty,

In again comes the wind,

Raising the temperature,

Changing the beautiful crystalline artwork of the Creator

To dull, gray rain.

Uncaring it pelts against

The fragile flakes,

Melting away their loveliness,

Exposing the grass,

All wet and lifeless now;

Looking out of place

In the wintery landscape.

No! I cried.

Don’t take it all away.

I need more time

To commune with this part

Of His creation.

How can I glean the lessons of winter

In only a day?

Still, I shall rejoice

And praise the Maker

Of winter’s finest adornment.

I shall marvel at the care He gives

To create each snowflake,

Uniquely designed,

None like any other;

A visual lesson

Of the care He puts into the creation

Of each of us.

I shall hope for more days

To sit and watch the snow

Pile up upon my porch.

To gaze in wonder as frost

Weaves lacy wedding gowns

Onto the naked limbs of trees.

To stand amid the snowy drifts,

And listen to the hushed silence

That reaches a part of the soul

With a calming balm

No other season can duplicate.

For the beauty of the earth

Christ, My Lord, to Thee I raise

This my grateful hymn of praise.