Praise Poem Poem by dave lessard

Now come the days of stark November,
when most of day is pierced by night;
but in the gloominess of shadows,
gloom's eclipsed by Your great light.
In the patterns of Your weather,
comes the rain, the hail, and snow;
but for a day or for a season,
with it comes that special glow.
Leaves will wither in the winter,
but green will come with every Spring;
and even in the clutch of coldness,
I still hear the heavens sing.
Autumn's here but for a moment,
far behind is Summer's heat;
we catch our breath on frigid mornings,
and dodge the ice with hurried feet.
Each season comes with mirth and pleasure,
the gracious gift of Your creation;
the earth spins safely in Your arms,
and hearts cry out with jubilation!