Have you considered my pine trees? The first sign of deadening winter, the cold saps the color from green, trees at first blazing yellow, red and purple, in it's last defiance soon fall dead on cold winter's floor. Standing tall, still regal and full with pines, just as alive and devoted to the earth, grounding and digging deeper into the hardened soil. Standing guard as a beacon of summers past and future spring, holding a light to the hope of winters break.
Have you considered my snow? Storehouses filled with marshmallow sweetness, sparkling in the sun, glitter sprinkled on us, paving the streets with quietness, a muffled calm. Each snowflake unique to itself, God's creativity imprinted in each crystallized star, falling with treasure hidden in plain sight. Come closer to me and see, I will show you variance limitlessly beautiful and unbound. Clumped together, a blanket like a big fluffy comforter in a bed of winter, warming up the air and covering the earth like insulation for critters hiding from the bleak.
Have you considered my stars? In cover of night, dimming down the earth of its details and description, hiding a blemished world, a tiny holes are punched through the sheet of black to shine in the light. Rather, a blazing jewel, swirling with active and hot gas, bursting with energy, magic and fire, it's God's eyes on us. "Look, into my eyes child when the night is chilled with darkness and you cannot see. You don't need to see anything else but my eyes." I say, "While everything falls to blurry confusion, a blinding rouse, cajoling your heart to see this and that, leading you by it's sticky fingers, leaving smudges on your wrists, don't take your eyes off mine."
Have you considered my angels? On a manic Monday, speaking to you sweetly, "watching you, you are like art" and calling you Princess, a child of the King. Playing you songs of encouragement and hope, "you'll be okay," "I am light." Bringing you down to the floor, freeing you to move, in your body and in your heart, forgetting just for a little while, what you left at the door. Thoughts of love and prayers like incense, intended for Him, but warm amber smells fills your lungs as a bystander.
They are my instruments of love, don't fall into despair.