Snow
There's snow in the air today:
its sullen greyness
waiting to dress the world
in wedding finery.
Freezing droplets
suspended in hedgerows
like virginal veils.
There's snow falling today;
wind-whipped and swirling,
dancing and curling,
covering -
mothering -
smothering -
in its innocent purity.
There's snow on the rooftop
the field and the roadway,
the verges grey-brown
and wet with sludge.
The scene still is changing,
with nature arranging
to alter the Psalter.
There's snow an the ground
so deep, not a sound
can pass, except for a hush.
Now the bride in her veil
has left a sad trail,
with the hymnary white
overshadowed by night.
There's snow on the ground,
and the blood of the Lamb
is waiting now to be shed;
and the bride in her veil
releases a wail
as the Saviour of man
hangs lifeless and dead.
The snow has departed
and locked in a tomb
lays the remnant
of the man He once was.
But on the third day
the stone rolled away,
revealing the Saviour He is.
Colin Gordon-Farleigh © 2003
No comments:
Post a Comment