19 December 2021

Fourth Sunday of Advent 2021


Snow, by Anne Sexton

blessed snow, 
comes out of the sky
like bleached flies.
The ground is no longer naked.
The ground has on its clothes.
The trees poke out of sheets
and each branch wears the sock of God.

There is hope.
There is hope everywhere.
I bite it.
Someone once said:
Don't bite until you know
if it's bread or stone.
What I bite is all bread,
rising, yeasty as a cloud.

There is hope.
There is hope everywhere.
Today God gives milk
and I have the pail.


Kim in Oregon said...

Beautiful. Made me smile.

Araignee said...

How lovely! What I wouldn't give for just a few flakes. Last Christmas I got the gift of a dusting. This year it will be in the mid 60's. Booo...