Oats and seeds and honeybees'
fruits of labor in my bowl.
Drink Kava tea while windy breeze
blows outside my window.
It's mid December and I've frozen toes.
It's too cold for roofing.
O for wood stoves and heartwarming prose
in such a winter's pursuing.
God of embers, kindle within
more love to your dear Son.
Let not my heart get frosty cold
as December's not half past done.
1 comment:
I would like to soon warm your hearth with an alcohol stove and 20,000 pages of prose, more or less about Jesus.
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