Storm

Storm
By Rev. Lonnie C. Crowe

Wildly assailing,

Twisting, crackling brittle limbs,

The sleet-frenzy batters

My tumult of soul.

Scurry and rush assaulting,

Cold-life-frenzies pummel and bludgeon.

Ah,

Then softly, softly,

Through the tempest,

"Come, come unto me,

I'll give you My rest."

The storm without infuriates,

Raging more savage and chill,

But my souls rests in

His peace

Secure in His will.

Winter Celebration

Winter Celebration
By Rev. Lonnie C. Crowe

Through drifted snow,
Dazzling diamonds
In the brilliant sun.

Beneath the pristine sky,
Bits of tawny tuft
Peer through the wind-swept paths.

With vaporous breath preceding,
We trudge on top and through
The wintry crust.

The crunch of boot 
And breaking drift.

Serene,
Solemn,
Silent--

But for only a moment--

Then the flurry of
Mittens and mukluks,
Fox and Geese, 
Sleds and snowmen.