The snow is the primer
The sun is the paint
Black shadows made finer
By an orange so faint
A roof of cascading prisms
Reaches desperately below
We slow to earth's rhythm
We capture the snow
Crisp branches hold hoarfrost
Before unspeakable blue
In my waking got lost
Dreamed I'd realized You:
Never left me
But loved me
And woke me
To the truth
A season forsaken
But a horizon so bright
Though I've been so mistaken
Your Son made me right
Looking straight as heaven
Sends light winter mercy
Grace flutters down
And the Maker loves me
It's quarter past seven
And I simply must know:
Can I shadow this rhythm?
May I capture this snow?
Never leave me
But hold me
And warm me
To the truth
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