A Winter's Day by: Kori Mitchell
The beginning
probably never was . . .
more like a circle,
shaped by the Master,
crafted in His name.
But that's how I see the start--
As a circle of friends
who opened a window
when I had almost
closed a door.
I did not deserve
the gifts you poured
upon me.
But they have been
recieved
in secret thanks.
You gave me shade
under your pointed leaves
smelling of the mountians
at Heaven's feet.
I am only a pine cone
and I see your branches
touching the sun.
That's where I came from,
and that's where I want to be.
but I must grow there . . .
and you must stay standing tall
so when the storms come,
I will not be washed away
except to meet your tender roots.
And I'll feel my own soul
begin to hold and grasp
the Master of
The Beginning and the End.
