The low light of a slight crescent moon

barely shows through the thin clouds

of this January morning.

The cold crust of the earth lies below

in the darkness of a day

not yet fully formed.

The chores that cannot wait for brighter moments

are done in the dimness:

hay, water and feed.

The needs of the horses met,

Randa walks back toward the house

and its sheltering from the harsh of wind.

Beyond the bluffs and the bare-branched ridge,

in the thin cut between the over-hanging shroud

and the blackness of frozen ground,

a thawing sun sends its warming orange,

a glowing promise of what endures,

a comforting reminder of pure love

that holds our lives

beyond the cold and darkness,

beyond the cloud and storm:

he who has formed us

is always near

to those whose hearts yearn for him.

H. Arnett

1/20/12