Even in Winter

Even in Winter

An under-stated twilight under overcast skies

softly reveals the splotched remnants

of last week’s ice and snow.

To the north and in the shadows,

white beds cover the underlying grass and leaves

in the places where the wind did not blow.

Paw prints trace a path

from road bank to barn to the treeline

that lifts bare branches stark against a muted sky.

Just west of the house,

hundreds of bird tracks and scratches

mark patches of once-buried seeds.

In the thin stretches where January sun

etched its warmth through the needs of thin cover,

winter stubble and bare earth show their girth.

In every storm and every season—

and not always by reasons easily seen—

not every piece and place will feel the same the same weight.

And though some may find the sun sooner than others,

there are none who are not touched and tested;

even those burrowed beneath the snow

will know that winter has come

and visited its sting against the marrow.

And even yet, the eye of God is still upon the sparrow.

H. Arnett


About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Ark City, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-nine years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-eight grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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