Sunday, January 26, 2025, -4.3*. Dark.
Something walks in the dark, if it’s Luna I can’t see her. Candles in windows proclaim it’s still night, a very still night seen as trees come into light standing as if they don’t breathe. Their buds promise a time of leaves. Where are soft breezes that caressed my face? How long will this season of stillness last? Until it is over my child. Until it is over.
"But if we hope
for what we do not yet have,
we wait for it
patiently."
Romans 8:25 (NIV)
Art: LJ Austin
