The world is
decorated
for the coming of
the King.
In mourning white
for those who cannot care
or glistening
bright for those who know He’s there.
Herald of the
season, early morning frost,
bedecks the
nakedness of trees,
settles on the
lost.
And in the gloss
of sunshine,
diamonds drip on
passers by,
unwary of the
wonder
with presents
still to buy.
Yet all creation
shouts and sings
carolling the
King of kings -
spreading a white
carpet
where red ought
to be.
A harmony of
monochrome
for those with
eyes to see.
1 comment:
Oh, so beautiful, Keith! "For those with eyes to see." I see! Thank you!
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