The winter’s isolating chill
is accented by gray skies;
bundled bodies repeat
the isolation as they turn
up collars and down eyes
to navigate the day’s cold.
But O My God! Even gray
is within the spectrum
of your beauty! My soul
delights to consider it!
It is the lining of your robe,
sweeping across the sky
as you pace the heavens.
It is an intricately-knit
blanket of silver yarn,
cast over the world as
comfort for weary souls.
It is the Rock of Ages,
our strength and home,
cast high so we might
see it and remember.
It is a fierce gray wolf,
watching, protecting,
challenging, marking its
territory against threats
to its authority. Let me
be glad in the gray sky
for here, too, is the glory
and goodness of God!

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