Door Church

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Winter

 

By Ken Laue

Winter, I saw your death throes
against the mountains
In Spring.

You rallied a cold storm
And dusted the crags with snow
In March.

 

But the sun
Was more than a match for you
And burned fiercely afterwards.

And January
Had fled away
And was calling himself July now.

Winter, I saw your death throes;
I always love you,
Winter in Arizona.

My Heavenly Father put a magic in you.
I always loved you better
Than August or June.

 

Winter,
Maybe it’s a hundred and ten
But you’re coming back again, someday;

Just like my Lord.

Winter,
You’ll paint your landscapes on my heart again
Like His palette in my soul.