Thrasher's Call

Intrusion to long-looming dark, oh, golden summit beauty, oh spruce-and-pine-wrapped early peek at glory, mossy verdant ark, whisper blowing ruach and breathe His life into my heart.

Sing, oh silent citadel, soaring, solid slate declare on gasps of fir-tinged Advent-scented air the final freeze of sorrow’s well, the mountain-laurel crown He wears, verdant life from nature’s buried shell.

When so worn out was my heart’s often-reapplied brief poultice, and anguish gouged my eyes, He brought me rest among the skies; He blazed His light into my soul this darkened season, a beacon lit upon the peak, where I could see Him, brilliant in His solstice.