The good God has graced me with
a winter soul—
where comfort is found in starkness,
in cold days of barrenness and purging.
Summer colors are bright and inviting,
but conceal harsh sultry days of misery.
In blinding white sacred days I come alive—
walking, praying, on silent, snow covered streets.
The wind of God's merciful, necessary penance,
blowing into me, down into my fragile soul,
killing all weeds of worldly desires that choke
and strangle little flowers in my spirit's garden.
Who can understand the profound depths of God—
Who provides each time and season for His own purpose?
So it is, with my soul, this winter soul given me,
I need not understand inspiration found in days
of chill and gray, but to wait patiently for them,
and endure the stifling burden of summer …