Who alone can ask the mid-December sun to pretend it’s May, and it listens,
And coax a cool gentle breeze to soften the sun’s hot rays,
Leaving only the crackling of the empty acorn shells
and the red berries on prickly holly trees
To remind that it’s December?
And coax a cool gentle breeze to soften the sun’s hot rays,
Leaving only the crackling of the empty acorn shells
and the red berries on prickly holly trees
To remind that it’s December?
Only the One whose voice is heard shouting whispers in the silent woods:
in the gurgling brook,
in the tap-tap-tap of the lone woodpecker,
in the gentle rustling of the few leaves still clinging to the trees
as the light breeze passes through.
in the gurgling brook,
in the tap-tap-tap of the lone woodpecker,
in the gentle rustling of the few leaves still clinging to the trees
as the light breeze passes through.
A backdrop of clear blue
As cottony white clouds drift slowly by,
How wonderful to spend this rare December day alone with You.
As cottony white clouds drift slowly by,
How wonderful to spend this rare December day alone with You.
Written by Kathy, 12/15/2011 at her 2nd visit to Well of Mercy
See post from first visit: Morning Worship
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