~*~ Trying Times ~*~

Winter storm clouds,
Brew across Father Sky.
The clouds billowing,
And ready to burst.

In the dead of winter,
Mother Earth is already covered,
In a blanket of snow.
So crisp and cold it is,
And already knee deep.

The great buffalo roam,
Yet once again,
For barren is the plain.
And follow within his path they must,
For without him they would surely,
Cease to exist.

Bundled up in furs,
The tribe ventures into the wilderness.
The blistering north winds,
Swirl around them.

It so bitter cold,
It pierces to the bone.
Struggling with child in arms,
Mothers tread through,
The frigid snow so deep
While the braves cast upon their backs,
The skins of which they call home.

Trembling and shivering,
They make their way over the bleak plains,
And head into the woodlands.
They pray to The Creator,
To guide the great buffalo,
To grounds more fertile.

And they pray and hope,
That this would be,
Their last move,
Within this,
Season of winter.

For these are,
Trying Times.

©Elizabeth Ann Bushey
June-24-2006©

Enter your E-mail Address

Subscribe  | Unsubscribe

Music: Great Divide
by Seer - Spiritual Music of the
World from Elan Michaels.

Graphic Set by Worship With You.
Copyright © 2006 by Worship With You.