Doubtful hours
Proved by wilted flowers
When they scattered
Petals, like hopes shattered

Hours lasting
Years, too many, stashing
Up with fears too
Heavy, petals that grew.

There is a face
That darkness can’t erase,
Though rain obscure,
But always it is pure.

Stems stark and bare
Stand brave, remember there
That winters’ end
Spring comes as promised friend.

When ice-winds blow
And leaves bow down with snow,
Still beauty there-
Sun glistening with care.

The blaze seems cold
But kindness won’t wane old,
In moments bright
Store up those hints of light.

James 1:17 “Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change.“