The sere fallen leaves
And the shattered broken fence
Witness waning life.
The rocks, dank and dark,
By ev’rgreens and year-end grass
Take forboding stance.
Like sheep in a meadow,
We are herded, mute ‘n servile,
In foggy terrain.
The scaly serpent writhes
Amid rough and tumbled rocks.

Lord God made them all!

I live upon thorns
To feed on bitter berries,
And yet, life goes on.

By the gnarled, bleached tree
And the weathered rocky crags,
The green of hope grows!