In a dark time my eyes begin to see…
I leant upon a coppice gate
When Frost was spectre-grey,
And Winter’s dregs made desolate
The weakening eye of day.
The tangled bine-stems scored the sky
Like strings of broken lyres,
And all mankind that haunted nigh
Had sought their household fires.
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited;
An aged thrush, frail, gaunt, and small,
In blast-beruffled plume,
Had chosen thus to fling his soul
Upon the growing gloom.
So little cause for carolings
Of such ecstatic sound
Was written on terrestrial things
Afar or nigh around,
That I could think there trembled through
His happy good-night air
Some blessed Hope, whereof he knew
I watch the long night’s transition to day as the mountain is licked by bright flames of color, heralding our slow waking.
The sun illuminates the darkened earth and we are bathed in its reflected glory and grace.
We work hard to be at ease, to lay down the heaviness of endings and celebrate the arrival of brilliant light in our lives.
The Son is now among us, carrying our load, fulfilling all promises.