Morning ice, sun

Dearly Beloved,
Grace and Peace to you.

The rising sun lifts every frozen thing
into another world.
All are wearing robes of white,
and crowns of silver and of gold.
Mist is raised in curls of light
from pools of ice repenting.
Vapor hovers off the ground,
a choir of light, a host of heaven,
Spirit brooding over dark Creation’s waters.
Branches dressed in stars,
their glinting millions,
stand in perfect contemplation,
bathed in newness.
Snow in silence gives itself to air
in lucent breathing.
Eden’s swords of flame pierce morning’s woods,
whose streets are paved with gold,
making every thing begin again.
Now nothing here, not even you, is old.

Deep Blessings,
Pastor Steve

Steve Garnaas-Holmes
Unfolding Light

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