The poem explores hope in Christ through vivid natural imagery—a gray sky, a sparrow’s song, a crocus blooming in frost, and water waiting beneath ice. It portrays a world marked by cold and shadow, yet threaded with subtle signs of life and promise. Christ is depicted as a “seam of gold,” a hidden, steady presence woven through brokenness, offering hope that is quiet but certain, like a dawn that emerges from darkness or a hand that sustains even the smallest fall.

The sky hangs gray, a shroud of ash,
yet through the pines, a sparrow stitches
song into the silence—small, insistent,
like a pulse beneath the frost.

I walk the ridge where shadows pool,
where stone splits under winter’s weight,
and there, a crocus dares to bloom—
pale flame against the cold,
its roots a whispered creed.

Christ is the seam, the hidden gold,
running through the torn earth,
the promise pressed into the seed
that splits to breathe.

I’ve seen the water hold its shape
beneath the ice, waiting,
a mirror for the dawn to come—
not loud, not soon, but sure.
Hope is this: the hand that holds
the sparrow’s fall,
the thread that pulls the morning
from the dark.