The dark-rimmed clouds came sweeping in

To shade the land like sullen sin.

Such mirth is struck from human hearts;

Such sombrous thought despair imparts!

 

What chance today for solar bright?

What hope for coming starlit night?

The forecast calls for trem’rous storms.

Their rage remorselessly deforms.

 

“There is no hope,” so many say.

The heavens frown the time away.

This day and age we walk in gloom

That tells us of the threatening doom.

 

Yet, on the skull-like limestone hill

The will of God Christ did fulfill.

The darkness came, and then it fled.

The Light is risen from the dead!

 

Michael G. Tavella

Epiphany, 2023