With Each Wonder

We feel it. The loss of the warmth and easy comfort that spring and summer gave us, and we turn now into the face of cold weather. Yes, it is here. It is November. Although winter does not officially begin until December 21 this year, we see its chill gaze over the rim and we feel its ice breath.

It sharpens and awakens us as every sense is awakened to some kind of new life. Or, at least we tell ourselves that. For some they huddle down in warm clothing or blankets or grandma’s quilt. For others, they embrace the frigid snap with unbridled excitement that leaves many of us somewhat bewildered. Yet here we are. All of us are in some way transformed.

I am somewhere between the two. I am only half in love with the colder seasons. Just bring me hot coffee and a good book, I’ll be fine. Yes, I’ll run and hike the trails and shovel snow, but more than that, I will see the beauty there. Whatever it is for you, grab that big fluffy hat or wrap a blanket around yourself or drag the snow board out because it is time for a change and we are all in this together. But always be on the lookout for the wonder. It is there for us to feast on and enjoy. And for some of us the wonder becomes a kind of consolation and healing.

The early mornings still have me and I write. I have written for many years. In November 1975 I wrote a poem. Now forty-eight years later I came across it and revised it for you. Maybe it will help us all embrace the cold with a new love. Here it is.

With Each Wonder
Of the healing in nature

With each wonder mend your tired wounds
that spill such anxious laughter in the wind,

the mysterious wind, a faintest stir of a wooing
               above the meadow there,
made of grasses, scrub, and scattered wood,

these in their quiet kiss and subtle beauty lying
               still the illness of your dark and crazy storm,

your harried days now lifeless and without strength,
               dead rigid and grotesque in fading empty light,
a confusion come to crush your wingless aching soul,

yet now in gentle easing hush a silence stills the air,
               and here no false conceit to stir unrest within,

a healing comeliness, a breeze benevolent now borne,
a calm and sweet embrace on heaven’s easy wind.

Originally written November 1975, revised November 2023.

Lastly, a reminder for those interested in things divine. I have a new Substack “A Curious Light” that launched on October 1. These essays are devoted to my thoughts on Scripture, on life with God and things eternal. This morning I posted Out on the Great Deep. Please give it a taste, it is free, and consider becoming a regular reader/subscriber.

Henry