Tillery - Becca Stevens

The dark emerging trees

from the new-winter wood

are lovlier than leaves

as cold is also good

The heart’s necessities

include the interlude

a frost-constricted peace

on which the sun can brood

No season of the soul

Strips clear the face of God

Safe, cold and frozen wind

upon the frozen sod.

The strong and caustic air

that strikes us to the bone

blows till we see again

the weathered shape of home

No season of the soul

strips clear the face of God

Safe, cold and frozen wind

upon the frozen sod

Dusk settles in later this time of year

The fireflies;

night time’s chandelier.

Night’ll come as days must end

But soon the sun will rise again

Sadness sheds in layers, leading us here

Springtime’s Winter’s souvenir

Winter clothes and Winter fears

Winter weight is so last year

No season of the soul

Strips clear the face of God

Safe, cold and frozen wind

Upon the frozen sod.

I think what makes Spring so sweet

Not the roses but beneath

Is the undelying truth

that everything must go so soon

No season of the soul

Strips clear the face of God

Safe, cold and frozen wind

Upon the frozen sod.

So may we shout

and may we sing

So may we shout

and may we sing

So may we shout

and may we sing

Blessed thaw, O Holy Spring