What Appears to Be
In the barrenness of March,
which even the snow abandoned early,
winter appears to be winning.
Tree limbs without a hint of buds,
the lifeless sod resembles
a weathered burlap sack.
But beneath the surface,
which still appears abandoned,
spring is patiently waiting.
Sap, to awaken the sleeping trees
new grass, to invade its dormant cover
like an unseen army.
In the valley of the shadow
where you, my loved one, hover
death appears to be winning.
But as your soul abandons
its lifeless shell, Jesus awaits
and endless life appears.
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