Winter Roses by Teresa Duke
Think how winter light will enter a room
To suffuse the air with limpid brightness.
On an ebony piano, roses bloom
in a crystal vase where the sun's whiteness
falls upon angles of prismed glass
to scatter the spectrum's varied color
throughout the room and to thereby surpass
the sun's primal beauty, basic and pure.
So it is when God's light enters a heart:
as there's no reflection without a source,
Whatever we create exists as part
Of the divine illuminating force,
For only when that light pierces the soul,
Can we see to make pieces from the whole.
David James Madden