Praise to the Lord for the brown and the spare

for branches devoid of their leaves,

for ashling grey tree trunks all fallen and bare,

for bushes blown sad in the breeze.

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Praise for the sky-clouds that shadow the sun:

for wintery silvery gauze,

for knowing when all of the flowers are gone

nature still echoes and awes.

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Praise for the alternate beauties that please

for seasonal ebbings and flows,

for steely cold snow clouds that change by degrees,

for morn-frost that suddenly grows.

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Praise for the rustling of squirrels in the brush,

of ravens o’erflying the fields,

for all of the sounds we enjoy in the hush:

the notice that quietness yields.

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Praise for fallow, and dormant and still

for ground storing goodness for spring,

for flittering snowflakes the freeze us with thrill

that even in winter will sing.

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Photo by Mikhail Peace: https://www.pexels.com/photo/frozen-leaves-on-icy-surface-in-winter-35139260/