The earth stirs drowsily under her blanket of snow.
The air smells of renewal.
The restless wind blows away the frigid air of stale winter
along with all our frozen apathy.
We find renewal, too.
Holy Spirit, come. Selah.
The waste places of our hearts are
ice-damaged and ruined.
Let the warm sun melt us
into soft surrender.
May the Lord
repair our hardened clay; make us anew,
give us hearts of Eden.
We turn weary winter faces, pale and wan
to gentle spring sunlight.
Just in time.
For the Lord comforts Zion;
He comforts all her waste places
and makes her wilderness like Eden,
her desert like the garden of the Lord;
joy and gladness will be found in her,
thanksgiving and the voice of song. Isaiah 51:3