Poetry

 " Grace"

A blanket of snow covering fall’s blaze,

The fires of summer’s hope quenched in this cool grave.

Beneath it, unseen to the eye,

New dreams are forming, tears have dried.

Dreams, steering like captured patterns of light

Across this blanket of cold and pure white.

Yes, summer’s dreams have gone, buried in the past,

Making room for better, higher goals at last.

Laughter, joy, pain and hope frozen in ice,

Death to the old, the new shall rise!

Death is grace, masquerading in bitter loss,

Making room for the future, burning the tros.

There is peace beneath this winter’s snow,

After the blazes of fall burned so.

Yes, new dreams are forming in secret,

Forming out of the old a new beginning

And a new end.

                                                      Ute Kelly

                                                      (11.1.98)

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