Your snow falls on everything.

Purifying it so.

When the sun shines upon it come morning, its white will sparkle and glow.

Cleanse the streets.

Cleanse the trees.

Bring rest to your birds and your bees.

There is a still softness that calls.

And we answer with plea.

That you take it away.

The burden heavy to bare.

Perhaps you use it to slow us down.

Demonstrating how much you care.

That we make margin for rest.

That peace in a snowfall.

Difference in a snowflake.

Nature testifies to the glory of You who designed it all and still creates!

No two things truly alike.

Yet all painting a picture.

Of Your Holy sacrifice.

So what has died and fallen from trees right before our eyes.

Is covered so purely with the white of Your skies.

Too bright for us to direct our gaze upon.

Man making it grey with the clutter from our days.

But the unseen work You did beneath the soil.

Brings life again in Spring.

And we have a picture of Christ through Your seasons.

As You mold us like the potter You are into unique jars of clay.