Another dark day—
the sky, a low, furrowed ceiling;
the skeleton branches, dripping tears,
and all the world, gray.
•••
What have I done?
Drained the azure from the sky?
Stripped the trees of green?
Forever blotted out the sun?
•••
What a dismal, wretched place!
And yet I sense You here—
moving closer through the darkness—
in the last place I ever thought I’d find
grace.
Gratefully His 