Sparrows’ Hope


The wind is whipping
Cold and drear
The shortest day
Is almost here
And with a muffled
Wrapping meet
I hit the snows
And hit the street
Some things to sort out
On my own
As this a fast year
Almost gone.
And frets and fears
Like chilling wind
Attempt my courage
To unwind.
What’s that a bush?
With berries red
Most freeze dried
Where the birds are led
They chirp and hop
And sing and sort
And whisper this
Their wise report:
‘We do what we
Were made to do
And trust a loving
God comes through
We fluff our stuff
And seize the warm
And have this day
Quite free from harm.’


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