Poetry

By Susan H. Miller


Trees in Winter

I saw them die last fall.
I cried as death
Crept down their limbs.
They stand, black-limbed,
Etched against a blood-red winter sun,
Reaching,
Beseeching heaven for
New life …
Forces I do not know
Nor cannot see work within
Renascent limbs
Where green buds burst from barren boughs.

As the Smallest Plant Seeks Sun

All living things are blessed with heavenly light
And need it as the smallest plant seeks sun,
Creator to creation giving sight
That animals may see in darkest night
And by their instincts know to hide or run.
All living things are blessed with heavenly light,
And man, though but a child, knows what is right—
The conscience, light of Christ, withheld from none.
Creator to creation giving sight
To him whose heart is broken and contrite;
The Holy Ghost, a Gift to such a one.
All living things are blessed with heavenly light.
The Second Comforter is yet more bright—
Christ himself, the Light of the World, the Son,
Creator to creation giving sight.
Blaze on, celestial spiral, height on height,
No end to fire and glory once they’re won.
All living things are blessed with heavenly light,
Creator to creation giving sight.

[photo] Photography by FPG International