I walked thru winter woods,
And searched for Your hand,
The too cold air was an ache in my chest.
The trees once arrayed in lovely colors
Some broken by the weight of ice and snow storms,
They are barren and stark,
Lines of brown against the grey sky.
The eyes of my heart search for life,
I know that though I cannot see it now
or even feel it,
There is life and rest,
Driven deep inside the cores of those trees,
The secret workings of Your hands,
Within the depths of the earth.
The trees are still,
waiting for the rejuvenation that will come.
It’s then that I hear it:
Borne aloft in a flurry of wings and chirps,
A mass of tiny blue birds
Their descent is clear,
Unfettered by the thick blooms of summer,
It is in the emptiness
That I am able to see
What previously I had only heard.
Their joyful song,
Their life filled bodies,
Rising into the sky.
A reminder that in barren landscapes
Glow even brighter by contrast.
And the One who cares for these little birds,
Who sees each feather fall,
Who guides each wing into flight,
He loves me even more.
And so, I walk on,
Head lifted to catch sight,
To catch hold,
of His love,
Borne aloft on wings of hope and grace.