Creation Waiting
(Romans 8:21)
It is a serene October midnight,
a full moon rides the ragged clouds,
ducking behind them, almost brushing
the swaying tips of trees now.
The night is cold with a biting
breeze, but still I linger, snug in my
toque and woolen coat,
my eyes trained on that perfect,
shiny coin in the sky,
how it can beautify
the mystery of the dark
and the darkened woods,
the higher branches dancing
with the moon.
Sycamore, elm, willow,
white birch…
their arms reach up,
limbs stretching as if to embrace
the stars with praise,
stretching toward JESUS
with relentless anticipation,
all that He fashioned awaiting
the liberation He has prepared–
Robes washed white in the LAMB’S blood
As incorruptible consumes corruptible
As Christians rise up in the air.
– Francis Freed
