As I sit before my windows, visiting with you this morn Father, Christmas-red cardinals dart here, there, circling the flaming treetops with their ribbons of cheer. Celebration seems in their winging, as if beside themselves with the pure white, feathery world. For, autumn is trying on her ermine for the snow ball, and all the tall and elegantly dressed trees lifting their graceful arms to receive and slip on the gown – like ladies in waiting – are in a-flurry.
Snowflakes on my eyelashes mist the eyes…I am a mix of merry in your season… melancholy in the missing of one of us. I cry to you, “Send your comforter of peace to wash each sorrowing heart anew.”
“I have heard your heart cries, and I will wing my hope over and in each of you, sing songs of thanksgiving upon you,” your words fall like flakes of pure promise.
Truly, you hold us as your treasure within your snow globe world, warming us by your eternal lamplight.
White is the color of prism-ed hope.
© Pam Depoyan
photos: mine. Sorry, these look dismal gray instead of the pure white I am seeing from my window… even with a flash. Camera won’t pick up on it inside, but maybe I can get more later from out in it 🙂