Winter's tunnel

Birds perch upon the highest bough

not scared to slip and fall

in this life stripped bare and devoid

of the meaningful.

How firm their faith in love

that through grace allows true flight

to acquire and imbibe

lasting sustenance.

And through winter’s tunnel they’ll arrive

into the glorious

and their song though never silenced

will more strident pierce denial.

But, but, but, and, oh, another but

there are lands where birds don’t go

and mankind that will not grasp

how faith always provides.

It’s not to say that idle hands

must rest content in uselessness

because always in the physical

we’re called to honour life.

Yet and yet, and, oh, another yet

how to honour the stripped bare

and effortlessly glide through

winter’s deadly tunnel?

Through faith, of course, simple faith

so easy but made difficult

to acquire and imbibe

until summer comes again!