Marissa Black | Staff Writer

Little sparrow, frantically flapping
Blown around by winds of affliction
Stiff are your feathers, weary your wing
Fatigued by this sudden eviction

No rations stored up, lacking supply
Food for the future is spent and gone
His daily bread is still multiplied
Fly these lands of anxious Babylon

Fragile lily, trembling petals fear
Easily torn and pilfered and lost
Clinging white garments, holding them near
So fearful of wilting—frightened by frost

Sweet blossoms were not yours to compose
Unable to change their form or hue
Bestowed on you before the cosmos
A gift each season to don anew

As flowers who fear bleak winter’s change,
Dread weighs heavy in bellies of birds.
Freezes their actions with power strange
Stifles their thoughts, stiffens their words

Winter’s march of changing skies still looms
Fear’s grip is not so easily freed
A stranger stands beside drafty tombs
Urging roamers to enter with speed

“Wintry chills cannot bite you in here
I’ve tended the soil, entwined the nests
This tomb a respite, shelter from fear
To pause and grow and receive your rest

I will weather Winter’s storm with you.”