Seeking Solace in Her Maker

20131211-074208.jpgGray smears across the valley, hiding the yellow warmth to come
Cold brittle crackles wrap around the long wet limbs stretching into heavens
Wet white trapped into natural patterns of the land
Frosted steam exploding from her lungs
To seek solace, quiet time with her Maker
The distant precipice looks on, waiting
A red-haired companion scurries in advance, fleet with four feet
Mocking her she cannot follow his heights….
Three legs to carry her, the gnarled shillelagh moves like a pick in the ice
Labour through each step
Arguing with the voices of her head
The other desires to steal her peace
Retreat is considered, so much else to do
Why must you go? Hush, she demands.
Pink glow, steals across the sky, scolding the shadows of the night away
Pressing on, she arrives at the top, He is there
Losing herself in His goodness and wisdom
Drinking in the Word of His mouth
To seek solace, quiet time with her Maker
She is rewarded, girded for the day
 
 
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