The Ancient of Days

The low light of a slight crescent moon

barely shows through the thin clouds

of this January morning.

The cold crust of the earth lies below

in the darkness of a day

not yet fully formed.

The chores that cannot wait for brighter moments

are done in the dimness:

hay, water and feed.

The needs of the horses met,

Randa walks back toward the house

and its sheltering from the harsh of wind.

Beyond the bluffs and the bare-branched ridge,

in the thin cut between the over-hanging shroud

and the blackness of frozen ground,

a thawing sun sends its warming orange,

a glowing promise of what endures,

a comforting reminder of pure love

that holds our lives

beyond the cold and darkness,

beyond the cloud and storm:

he who has formed us

is always near

to those whose hearts yearn for him.

H. Arnett



About Doc Arnett

Native of southwestern Kentucky currently living in Blair, Kansas, with my wife of twenty-five years, Randa. We have, between us, eight children and twenty-one grandkids. We enjoy singing, worship, remodeling and travel.
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