As I looked out into the frigid air,
once again my eyes focus
on the palisade of trees
quietly standing perpendicular
to the tainted frozen ground.
There are some trees that are
totally leafless; their frozen trunks and
naked branches reflecting silhouettes
of giant arboreal skeletons piercing
the sky with waiting resurrection poses.
Then there are others with spiny
ice-laden leaves and frozen cones
hanging from bending branches
burdened with heavy ice cycles.
Yet, their statuesque trunks—in stoic
dignity—continue to arch skyward.
My eyes filled with this silent still scene,
cause my mind to struggle with keloid
memories of lynching scenes; but my
faith’s spirit turned my focus onto God’s
tree of life and the fruit of the vine that
hung from its sacred branch.
Alas, the teasing chill that had come over
my soul like cold snow, has become the victim
of the burning bush of warming hope—igniting
renewed faith in the coming dissolution of the
present winter’s pandemic discontent of political,
economical, social, medical, and climatic discord
we now struggle—with God’s strength and refuge.
So, blessed be these teaching trees I’ve been
symbolically hanging out with; for they
have graciously reminded me that indeed,
we live and walk by faith, not by sight.