Winters Voice

 

Nestled in the van with the heater warming our toes we sped along the cold roads early this morning leaving our house. We came down the hill, and there before us was a sight to behold.
“Wow! Look at that!” Jonas called from the back seat.

The sun broke from the clouds igniting the silver mountains. In shimmering rays it pulled at Fog slumbering upon the tree tops, drawing out his spindly arms. There before us they danced,
Sun and Fog
swirling together like marbled sponge cake.

As we neared the woods I saw as they skipped and chased after one another through the forests of tall aspens. Beams of light and tendrils of cloudy mist weaving in and out. The scenes flashed by our windows like photographs in a film reel.

The Aspen stood there, knobby knees poking out, wearing only their white bathrobes and fluffy bunny slippers. Their twigs tangled with their neighbors, like a swath of bad morning hair. They didn’t join the dance, they remained firmly planted in the icy snow drifts- observing.
Much too drowsy from Winter‘s voice.

An old three rung fence, had his arms outstretched protectively around the aspens, scolding the sun and the fog for playing so. “HUSH!” He creaked, quivering with age.
“Don’t wake them!”
Did Old Fence hear something I didn’t?

Ah, it must be Joy. So beautiful, childish, and bright. Whispering of Hope and Spring. Joy singing while Winter preens showing us her dazzling beauty.
The day just bursts with it all, shouting, whispering, singing
of their Maker. God.
King of Hope.
Purpose.
Promise.
Life.

img_0074
An old photo of Sun… because I “wrote” the photo of what I saw

 

 

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