I walked through the woods
Your tiny hand clutched in mine
And together we looked at the trees.
I love them here.
They grow crooked,
All of them.
Bent by wind and storms,
Some even broken.
And yet, they are still beautiful,
Their fingers reaching upward,
Almost touching the sky.
Then the sun broke through the clouds
And it drenched me in its light and warmth.
In this season that is not traditionally
Or obviously beautiful or pleasant,
Where the trees and landscape are stripped
Of their once beautiful foliage,
Where their limbs stretch,
Naked and exposed
Against the gray wintry sky,
Where the air is so cold it bites
And cheeks sting
And tears burn.
Here in this barren landscape
The light seems somehow brighter
Perhaps by contrast
With the passing glories,
Feeding the earth
Guided by the cycles of life that God Himself set up,
Here in the sunlight
In the Son’s light
There is healing.
Photo Credit (with inserted scripture): Han Lahandoe via spark