by the lake where the waves were frozen

We found a tree cheap this morning, and are preparing to have our first guest over Christmas, Heather's close friend Roselyn, from Reba Place in Evanston. Heather's Christmas gift to me two years ago was a poem about our time together there:

By the lake where the waves were frozen
Into dunes of sand and snow,
Talking of art and abstract things,
You and I then would go.

In streets where air grew warmer
And slowly pale grass greened,
We spoke of people we knew, and hoped
Things were better than they seemed.

On that corner by the bushes,
Yellow flowers hung thick and wild
And you shuddered my heart into longing
When you spoke of faith like a child.

And the spring storms fell on the city,
and birds sang wild and sweet;
In the rain trees blossomed and flourished
And wet petals dropped at their feet.

And skies broke blue with the glory
God spoke when the world was made,
And earth was warm beneath my feet,
And I was sore afraid.

But I sat by the lake unfrozen
As it flashed the sun back to the sky
And asked God if this was madness
And could not believe the reply.

And my hand was in yours and yours in mine;
Uncertain the road we trod.
Yet we vow in the dark still to throw ourselves
into the arms of God.