First Snow

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How dreary thorns in flesh?
Russet hues in wintry light;
against dismal resting earth.

It’s here first snow appears;
scatters crystals among trees,
interrupts rioting leaves of fall.

Where comes storehouses of snow?
God binds them in unreachable homes;
unleashing flakes at His sovereign will.

A child sees first snow differently,
when mossy earth is laden white;
over, over, and over again anew.

Yet time will come, snow shall melt,
life’s bleakness fade; in last of days
and earth made new again, as snow.

“… no more death or mourning
or crying or pain, for the former
thing have passed away.”

Revelation 21:4

My eleven year old granddaughter shared a slice of wisdom with me the other day. I told her it was going to snow. She said, “Its first snow!” with a tone of excitement. “It already snowed this year,” I simply replied. “But it hasn’t snowed for awhile,” said she. Looking at the bare landscape I saw tawny trees, exposed earth, and stately green pine’s lack of decorations. It was then I understood the importance of snow to her. Let’s be reminded, as we struggle through the season of celebration, whatever came to one’s door unwelcome will one day pass away. Like melting snow, will disappear and all will be made new by a sovereign God.

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The Dwelling

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On mucky, cloudy days
there’s poetry in my pond.

From solstice to equinox;
it crosses winter’s ray.

Admired the woodchuck,
on his groundhog’s day.

Yet, the busy muskrat
chases Eternal clouds away.

Grassy tower stands…
it stirs, shifts, and sways.

Till… last of days.

“As water disappears from the sea,
And a river becomes parched and dries up,
So man lies down and does not rise.
Till the heavens are no more,
They will not awake
Nor be roused from their sleep.”
Job 14: 11-12

We know so much about the groundhog, but it’s the muskrat that stays awake all winter at water’s edge munching on grasses. He’s a busy little thing piling up a tower of reeds and marsh debris to make his cozy abode. I’d say there’s poetry in that… just as you will find over at dVerse, as poets use their imagination with a form of the word “poem”.

Two Vines

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Against a crust of snow
a vibrant mask appears
amidst white, a welcomed plight.

Trailing, twisting, turning…

Bitter sweet good-byes
beckoning eyes to garner;
baited, bribe’s delight.

Stony slopes and timber thicket…

Climbing woody heights,
clamber in clusters,
canker or cursed blight.

Value the Veracious Vine…

Drink not bittersweet liquor,
dulls the shrouded mind,
dims the veiled eye’s sight.


“I am the Vine; you are the branches.
Whoever abides in me and I in him,
he it is that bears much fruit, for
apart from me you can do nothing.”
John 15:5

At dVerse we are entertaining poisonous plants. Hopefully, we’ll all survive.

Dispensing Pine

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The poplar, pine and paper oak
stretch crowns, trunks, and branches
upward pose toward the Provider.

Shedding of the old …
needles bumping and bouncing
clutching, clinging tree crevices.

Chestnut cones tumbling;
skid, slip, spill, stumble
down each sturdy branch.

Seeds donated for another season.

“And God said, “See I have given you every herb that yields seeds which is on the face of all the earth, and every tree whose fruit yields seed; to you it shall be for food.”Genesis 1:29

Over at dVerse words are bouncing in blocks of a 44 word count.

Moon Creatures

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I marvel at the snow mark designs, as I tromp my wooded landscape.

Hoof prints precisely etched, step-by-step, deep in drifts. A pattern of an elegant waltz scattered on forest hill. Talons too mingle like confetti in powdered earth. I wonder, did they dance a Irish Jig in the middle of winter’s moonlit night? Rabbit paws join the collage of artistry. Soft pose, graceful pirouettes, and tender plié of prints; long leaps of a ballet routine is that what I missed as I slept through arctic night?

Did they worship? Did they pray? Did they fellowship. Or did they bath in thankfulness beneath the Light which lit their path? Giant pines fenced in the event, banks of snow make still the bustle, and an open heaven of moonlight tumbled from the heavens. A flurry of activity occurred here last evening and in the morning light I can only dream.

Simple earth creatures
in midnight memories praise…
against pale, powdered snow.

Fuyu No Tsuki–Winter Moon–dVerse Haibun Monday at dVerse. What marks your snow?

Grace & Glory

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Splendor in the setting sun,
where neither nights nor days
reside against the sunset blaze.

Unfair, unearned, unjust…
Complimentary sacrificial source;
as shadows skulk off course.

No virtue in man without God;
His grace, His shield, His glory…
Be sheltered in the great I Am.


“For the Lord God is a sun and shield;
The Lord will give grace and glory;
No good thing will He withhold from
those who walk uprightly.” Psalm 84:11

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