Winter Lament: a poem

I miss the trees of summer time

covered in green abundant grace

their branches are so lonely now

lacking bright color of any trace


I miss the ripe golden peaches

hanging plump in a lively leafed case

no fruit upon their branches now

no bees buzzing a hurried race


Winter rests upon the pointed peaks

hiding the crevasse of Angel’s face

yet an allotance of her beauty seen

in the season’s soft hushed pace.


I miss the freshness of the garden

the spreading grape vines interlaced

weeding the rich dark earth gave me

the reward of peaceful pondering place


I miss my bike and balmy outdoor hikes

those joyful journeys now replaced

with snowshoe trails and sledding hills

those familiar summer paths retraced


There is a time for everything

this season is not displaced

So let me rest and trust Him now

and feel the warmth of His embrace.

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