there are a few leaves on the trees,
clinging, shuddering in the breeze,
attempting to wait out the coming freeze.
there are a few drops in the air,
falling, landing here and there,
attempting to dampen spirits - not fair!
I think my faith is like the leaves, and
the enemy is like the rain - I am clinging,
barely holding on, digging my fingernails
into what I cannot control, yet want to.
he is flinging his poison raindrops of despair
into my eyes, onto my heavy spirit.
I know - I have to let go - the leaves must fall -
the rain drops must form puddles - and all
must go . even when it is not fair.
but I can jump in the puddles.
I can rake together the leaves.
spring will come.
spring will always come.
