As I consider the snow gently falling to the ground,
I marvel at the beauty of the flakes coming down.
Now that the leaves of the trees have all been shed,
God blankets His creation like I tuck my children in bed.
There are hidden and desolate seasons we all seem to fight;
Yet, even the Maple knows its sugar needs the cold nights.
There’s a silent abiding that makes restoration complete;
From here, the sugar comes, and the world becomes sweet.