One Hundred Words
Snow had lately frosted earth
But one scant inch.
Life blue in sky, bled red, died black.
Spotless Soul alone,
Bright in the heavens stood,
And, as if in deep respect,
Earth no sound made.
None could hear the birches creak,
For no breeze stirred.
No tapping from the evergreen,
Not one bird moved.
None could hear the voice of snow
For no beast roamed.
And all was cold and still -
Locked in reverent tone.
Strange. Quiet. So quietly strange,
No scene I heard, but sound I saw -
For it is during times as this
God's voice speaks
© M. Barrett – all rights reserved
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If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
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