Sisters by a frost-covered tree.
The voices of the breeze,
Whisper its threats;
The trees speak back,
With creakings and cracks.
Old Winter comes slowly,
At a crawl it seems;
I wait for him patiently,
He and his family.
Frost is here already,
Snow is with Winter;
Rain hasn’t left yet,
And Cold is getting bitter.
The trees and breeze,
Discuss Old Winter;
They wait for him patiently,
Hoping he’ll come quicker.
(Yes. If you’re wondering if I’m ready for winter, the answer is, yes.)
On a walk through sunny shade,
The wind whispers gently through the trees;
The path before, like lemonade,
Yellow, golden, fallen autumn leaves.
Even in these quiet times;
There are changes so uncertain;
Yet God still gives us sunshine.
The clouds of doubt are now broken.
Once the leaves from trees have all fallen,
To the floor of the forest so far;
Once they darken, and their gold is stolen,
How barren the birch trees now are.
The leaves will grow back after a season,
Even though the trees appear dead.
Just so, every scar, bruise, and grievance,
Will heal after time trods ahead.
Take heart, have faith, seek Christ right now;
Though now may seem so sorrowful.
Time will tell what, when, and how;
The spring will bring something wonderful.
And so I find comfort, on a walk,
Through the shadows of today;
I thank God, for the lessons I’m taught;
As I walk on a golden pathway.
As we reach Midsummer’s Eve,
I stop and see, all the green;
leaves, grass, moss and trees,
in sunshine’s bright and brilliant beams.
Twilight comes and passes fast,
The moon still hides in Hatcher Pass;
I wait in the land of the Midnight Sun,
Wait for tomorrow to finally come.
Adventure awaits each day of mine,
Some slow, some fast, and some just right;
I enjoy the day, the sun so bright,
I thank the Lord for His sacrifice.
Like the leaf that lives in seasons but once,
So Christ gave salvation to all of us;
Though dead on a twig he fell to the earth,
Springtime brought resurrection, new birth!
So I look at this leaf that grows,
And wonder at what God has done;
This green creation He did sew alone,
The branch it stays home until autumn.
When it leaves the twig, it mourns so sound,
Joins it’s brothers on the ground;
It will return when the season comes,
When it does, it will sing a brand new song!
My friend so green, with eyes of a leaf,
Looks to find, a sweet relief.
God blows the wind, wherever He will,
Follow the wind, follow His will…