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Thank God for Winter
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By Michael P. Johnson
Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


Thank God for Winter

My eyes can see winterís here

Yet in my heart itís spring

The seasonís filled my heart with cheer

I praise my Lord and King

The wind has brought fresh snow today

Last weekís was growing old

Not all the birds have flown away

How do they stand the cold?

Once more, the landís adorned in white

Beautiful are the trees

I thank the Lord for this delight

For such fine sights as these

Now here and there the snowís quite deep

Perhaps two feet or more

Many creatures are fast asleep

Behind their bedroom door

For miles I see this glorious sight

So fresh each hill and dale

Just like a bride in liquid light

Behind her virgin veil

I love to walk on fresh crisp snow

To feel that special crunch

Then when Iím done off home I go

To eat a large hot lunch

How blessed we are with so much fun

We share with such good reason

We celebrate Salvationís Son

This white wondrous season

Give thanks to God all winter long

Even when itís freezing

Bless Jesus now with praise and song

Nothing quite as pleasingÖ..


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Submitted: Sunday, July 24, 2011

Last Updated: Sunday, July 24, 2011

About the Poet
I never wrote a word of poetry in my life. Till the day Jesus took my hand and touched my soul.....I invite your response. However most poems are not about me! Very few are. But the feed-back good, bad or indifferent is always desired. Not meant to offend, but I write about many things in many a guise. Of life, death, lost, found, saved, backsliders, new comers, repenting souls, doubting hearts, heathens, Christians, fire, water, Satan's daughter, wallowing in sin, saved, made sound walking in Light, graceful righteous. Suffering, ecstatic, bored, excited, sad, delighted, Sick, well, lame, able, living, dying, etc. etc. etc. Writing about anything, everything and everyone as the spirit leads. All meant to reveal, waken, revive, encourage, shame, help. Gladden, pick up, exalt, portrait, liberate. Again over 99% of my work is not about me. Although at times I write as though I were or am. Speaking e.g. in the first person. This is quite common even in the bible itself. Prophets speak of themselves, then God speaks, again the prophet, then God......Quite often it's difficult to distinguish whom it is that at any given time is speaking or narrating.


Other Poems by Michael P. Johnson


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