Last Call

Winter time is over
And Spring sprouts here and there
Yet outside my frosty window
Fat snowflakes fill the air.

I wonder if they’re stragglers
Aghast that winter’s ‘ore
Who have taken things in hand
To dance a little more.

I hate to contemplate their fate
When the sun comes out again
All stragglers disappear and
Will surely meet their end.

But ‘Truth’ endures forever
And fat snow always melts in Spring
To gurgle down a canyon tall
And help Spring’s children sing!

His silence now a thing of the past
Snow happily uses His voice
To help the Master’s  children
Make their changing choice.






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