Saturday - a poem

There has not been enough poetry here of late, and so ... I read this one yesterday by John Piper and thought it beautiful, and it's not remote from red birds in winter and roses blooming when half spent was the light. Do read his whole post about poetry, and listen to John Piper read it himself, but for now, the poem. I do like stanzas four and five.

Picture also taken from the Desiring God post.

Swimming in Winter

It is vacation time, and we

     must play.

No, this is not a must. We will,

     we may!

It is the season for this play,

     this fun,

And season follows season, when

     it’s done.

A time to fast. Then time to feast

     with spice.

Spring flowers follow winter snow

     and ice.

Or is this sequence really so

     precise?

Does life come like the roll of waves,

     Or dice?

Does winter never flinch? Refuse

     to go?

I’ve seen the tulips buried in

     the snow.

Yet, it is time to play. The sun

     appears.

So I will swim, and none will see

     my tears.

John Piper