Standing poised through winter's blast,
her little twigs were frozen fast,
Then she, as warmer breezes start,
remembers her forgotten art.
She lifts her head and holds it high,
her arms of grace curve toward the sky,
And on each slender finger lies
this morning's delicate surprise.
A drop of dew is on display,
sublimely beautiful ballet.
“Let them praise His name with dancing; … For the LORD takes pleasure in His people; He will beautify the afflicted ones with salvation.”
Psalms 149:3a, 4 (NASB)
© Craig Sabin 2019 All rights reserved
Poetic Perspectives 