It seems the world could end in ice
(Though we are promised fire),
As though the frost reached through the wall
To tweak my twitching nose.
But still, amid the sleet and storm,
“God is our refuge, strength.”
Though holy wrath rage bitterly,
With Jesus as its warmth
My quivering spirit need fear naught,
For he can never fail.
I wrote this poem about a year ago, in the wake of the “polar vortex” and to experiment with what is for me an unusual meter. At that time I thought of it as a fragment, but by May I considered it essentially complete.
As always, I earnestly welcome your (further) comments, suggestions, questions, critique, or other feedback about this or any other part of my work. If you liked this, you can follow this blog, which includes one of my poems nearly every Friday, or read other poems I’ve written (perhaps starting with those linked from one of the “archive” installments, since the full archive is by now, at over two hundred poems, somewhat daunting). You may also share this poem with others, subject to my sharing policy.
This poem is also mirrored on my wiki.