Call me when the winter is over. Tell me when the ground’s reborn. We’ve felt the chill. We’ve braved the bitter storm. The dark days are in the winter. We long for the sun’s warmth. The fresh air we need ain’t found in these doors.
The air we need ain’t found in these doors…
Our child comes with the spring dear. That’s when our son is born. A moment of pain. A gift from the Lord. We’ll raise him on that New Wine. Drunk upon the joy of questioning life and filling the void.
A questioned life and heart without void…
In summer it’s a lush world of reds and greens and blues. Stems with their bright crowns. A shade canopy grew. In the backyard barbeques doll. Your yellow sun dress too. Southern sweet iced tea. The sand in your shoes.
The season’s blues
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