She’s waiting on the juncos
In the coolness of the day
While autumn leaves are trickling down
Like glitter on parade
And there upon the frosted soil
A blanket fused in color
To quiet nature’s precious babes
And nurture like a mother
How sweet these quiet pleasures
That croon and captivate
Her senses lost in luxury
A gift to she who waits
And who, but her Creator
Would think of such sweet things
To lavish on her weakened soul
While Autumn climbs to Spring
And even as the last leaf falls
And the juncos take their places
The countenance of winter’s sting
Has taken on new faces
She’s clothed in brazen layers
That offer firm protection
Now only beauty touches her
As snow falls like affection
In twilight’s sparkling silence
The snowflakes tell her stories
A balm for all her fears of Spring
That steal the season’s glory
And now the tulips poke their heads
Up from the sleepy ground
Her heart laments with violent beats
Yet cannot make a sound
Then colors new and delicate
Undress her deepest fears
As she makes love to Beauty there
And rains victorious tears!
- Karen Davis King
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