The trees are bare,
and the songs of birds have left;
gone too the chanting of insects.
Only the winter wind raises her voice
in chilling canticles of praise.

Wrapped in her burial shroud of snow,
the earth patiently awaits
the warm touch of your Spirit, O God,
to rouse her from the sleep of death,
calling her to rise and come forth
from today’s tomb of winter.

I proclaim the mystery of my faith
that spring will follow winter,
that life will follow death
and that one day
all the tombs of death’s white season
will be transformed into the green of spring.
who is the sister of your Spirit.

May my trust in the coming of spring
on this cold winter day
be a sign of my faith
in the resurrection of all life,
the fulfilment of your promise
that we all will share
in the new life and eternal spring
of your son, Jesus Christ.

Come, but only in due season,
O glorious spring.
And, until then,
may I live in the promise
of your life-giving touch.
(Edward M. Hays)