This Tree

  
This tree,
My companion
In the front yard.

You are the filter
Through which I watch
The winter sky.

Sunrises, stars,
The sliver of a moon
In the pre-dawn light.

Some may call you bare.
I see the beauty of
Your shape,
Your branches, strong,
The witness that winter
Is not dead.
It brings a time of reflection,
Of seeing through other filters.

And now, with Spring,
You sprout new life.
You tell an Easter story,
That death has no power.
Resurrection changes all.

 
 
Find more of my prayers in my book Christ Beside Me, Christ Before Me: Celtic Blessings.