A Poem for Spring

Winter here
has a way of reaching deep
and burying more than grass
in snow
The soul goes dormant quietly,
grows dim without warning
Only embers are left as we plod on
in grim awareness
of how far we have to go
Then one day warmth returns
and life stakes a shaky foothold
in half rotted timber
and presses up in expectation
yearning to paint the landscape
in colors almost forgotten
Children crash as waves
over the playground
stretching legs
A breeze gently whisks away
the traces
of shadow and sorrow
that cling to the edges of change
And at just the right time
the sun comes forth
and turns his face
upon the forsaken ones
They fall gratefully into his embrace
weak and reconciled
and exchange sheepish grins
with one another
Suppressing the urge to shout
"I'm alive! I'm alive! I'm alive again!
I didn't know how close I was to death."

Romans 5:6


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