In His favor is life:
weeping may endure for a night,
but joy comes in the morning.
Morning sunlight thrums–hums through the air,
And collected snow, though stiff and frozen as ice,
Begins to glimmer and glisten with moisture,
Snow softening, slowly, surely, softening–melting
Melting into water to soak deep into the ground.
Next summer we will see the good of it.
Long harsh nights have been my lot at times;
Hurt and trauma have fallen like a layer of cold.
They have turned my heart almost to stone,
Cold, cold, hard stone, but then the morning with the
Light of grace shines down and my hurts and pains
Begin to soften, my anger and distress soften.
That hurt which might have destroyed me
Becomes forgiveness–good to my soul–something that
Nourishes and revives my spirit. That thrum–hum of
Morning grace sinks deep in me, soaks dry aching places,
Gives me strength for another day.