Photo by Carl Soerens. Used by permission.
I remember summer
when the sun was high in the sky
and I stood in my own shadow,
my bare feet on the sandy beach,
impatient for the passing of days.
In the colorful weeks of autumn,
I had no time to play.
Unaware of lengthening shadows,
days sped by in harvest time.
Now, as winter looms
and days slow to a crawl,
while shadows grow long and lean,
I grieve the loss of summer
when the sun was high in the sky.
Yet in my sorrow I call to mind
the promise of an era to come
when there are no shadows at all.
There the tyranny of passing time
is laid to rest at last. There I shall live.
There I shall be free to dance and sing,
bathed in the warmth of the Risen Son.