Framed out my window                                                                            First the rain

In nuance of green                                                                                     With its abundance falls

I behold what winter can bring                                                                 Then to the snowflake it calls

Icicles show their wisdom from without

As they stay to the very last drop

And the winds called Moriah

Blow with a might

Stretching and stretching

Out the night


But the more I watch out my window frame

More I hear Spring cry out its name

So where does all the changing

Of seasons end?

With closing the window

Does it depend?

Year after year                                                                                           For in His perfection

As the seasons go by                                                                                  Are things that I see

I lift my heart to God                                                                                  And without Him,

With a sigh                                                                                                  A window is nothing me


  My Window by Ronhales                                                                                                                                                      Psalm 97:6

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