A smell of cold rain, wood smoke,
and coffee drifted in the air.
The trees were bare and rough
sandpaper bumps forms all over
my skin, as a puff of white smoke
came out of my mouth as I breathed.
Knife Sharpe icicles shined from
the edges of the roof.
The world was so quite you could
of heard a pin drop.
I could not see my garden,yet I knew it
Potatoes, flowers, and beans were hidden,
under a deep blanket of snow.
The sun had showed it face for a second
and again disappeared behind the angry gray
clouds, high above me.
I could now not see the sun, yet I knew it was
Last night I could not see this day, yet I knew it would
I have never seen God, or heaven, yet I knew they too
I took out my pen of hope,and wrote on a tablet of faith.
I did not at first see a poem, but then as if by magic
these words did appear.
No matter how foreign this place in your life may be, know,
God has prepared you for it.
Even the things you cannot see, and know are there, will
appear when He knows the time is right.