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