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Reynolda S. Clegg

Snowflakes And Blossoms

I stood in my open doorway
And watched the snowflakes fall.
I shivered a bit in the morning chill
And heard the snowbird's call.

I marveled at the earth's barreness
After the warm summer's green,
After autumn's bright, gay colors
And the harvest's golden glean.

The air was filled with white missiles
Which fell through a vast sky of gray.
'Twas the first good snowfall of winter
On a cold December day.

But the earth was not yet receptive
To the snowflakes' gentle caress,
And rejected the soft protection
Snow would bring to it's now weary breast.

Protection from winter's harsh treatment,
And the cold winds which surely would come,
And the rest it would bring to life's struggles
Hidden safe in a crystalline home.

The snowflakes gently persisted
And fell with determinate will.
Through the day and the night they persisted
Till the earth's resistance was still.

I marveled next day at the beauty
Brought to sight in a few hours of time;
The white coverlet lying so silent,
So lovely, serene and sublime.

No hint of soiling or darkness
No footprint of beast or of man;
A oneness of white, glistening purity
Lay over the face of the land.

I was reminded of God's tender mercies
Which fall as the snowflakes fall,
And the bare heart's unwilling reception
To the spirit's plaintive call.

But the persistence of mercies, still falling,
Perchance will change someone's life
And cover it with a white garment
To rest from earth's cares and strife.

A garment so pure in it's beauty
No soiling from under will show.
No footprints to mar it's fresh surface
As pure as the new fallen snow.

Again I stood in my doorway
And watched a marvelous sight,
The budding of color about me
Coming out of the long winter's night.

Spring blossoms of myriad colors
Adorned an awakening earth
From the soil which once seemed so barren
But now was giving them birth.

I remembered the sweet bible story
Of the seed which needs must die
Before it arises in beauty
>From the grave where first it must lie.

And I thought of the new body promised
If we weather life's long winter storm
Under God's protective white cover
To guard and keep us from harm.

And I thought of Jordan's cold waters
Which come at the end of life's way,
And the promise of new life to follow
In eternal, unending, new day.

Then we shall arise in the morning
From the grave, the soil and the sod,
In the spring of eternity's garden
To become the blossoms of God.