Yon maiden looked into the placid green pond on this beautiful day hoping to catch the image of Your Grace.
There in her draped demeanor she saw reflected, the grey, barren trunks and limbs of naked trees gathered ‘round, like polar bear dippers in winter’s midst.
Stoic and unclothed, in the season when they surely needed the warmth of those leaves, the gathered wood had shed their robes into the pond, now green with their color.
The wishing well, the healing pool, had turned the orange and yellow and red of autumn’s colorful wake to their former green.
Long, yearning roots sucked like straws on the green drink, hoping for the help of spring to clothe the trees they fed,
The timber shared the mirror with winter’s diamond sun, dour clouds, faint, flickering stars, and stolid moon.
Creation’s brew waiting for God to show up and drink, waiting for the panting deer, waiting for spring, knowing that Your Grace will come.
– N. Wilynn Thomas