Morning Poem, December 14, 2016



On the day of solstice

The black oak holds its leaves.

On every side around

Other trees are bare

The elm, the ash, the hickory

Their branches are clean now

But the black oak clings to growth

No longer green

But brown, withered and curled

The dead life of warm summer

Now long past


Can it not forget?

Does it cling here foolishly

Like men hold sentiments

Memories of glory past,

Of once-believed hope?


Or is it wise?

Does it know that

It owes its neighbors

All of them shed

All conforming

To the day’s temperature

No fealty

That the mode of the crowd

Should not carry the day


Does it know

That God’s timing

Is not according to the seasons

And that, against every appearance

Every sign that promise has passed by

Even against nature, even against time

He will reward

He will deliver


Copyright 2016

This entry was posted in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s