by Stephen R. Clark

All winter we were teased with snow
that dusted the brown and green grass
with a thin, worn shawl of white filigree.
Not Dylan Thomas’s childhood
“whitewash buckets” of snow 
that “came shawling out of the ground.”
Just a smattering of crazed flakes, some fat,
some not, careening delicately down the
breezing cold gray days. We wished for more,
like Moses’s manna that turned the desert
sands into a sparkling sea of delicious white.
Snow redeems and manna feeds the weary
soul, bundled and trudging through the 
wilderness. Empty, we turn our faces to heaven,
mouths open, tongues out, praying for a taste
of hope seasoned with a little joy. Hungry,
we wait for spring to bring something even
more substantial, anticipating new life
and resurrection, with broken bread
and blood red wine, lilies, and roses.

Stephen R. Clark is a writer who lives in Lansdale, PA with his wife, BethAnn, and their two rescue cats, Watson and Sherlock. He is a member of the Evangelical Press Association and a regular contributor to and the managing editor of the Christian Freelance Writers Network blog.

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