Naked I was born, Clothed in His righteousness, by His faithfulness I will live.

I stand lingering in this quietness, in admiration of the majestic and commanding giants as they shed their glorious coverings exposing their nakedness before God and man, shivering, silent if not for a whisper.

Their weighty coverings, countless in color, are thrown to the ground, melting into the dark soil nourishing the roots as they thrust themselves deep into the bitter and unsympathetic earth.

White falls; like a cavalry onto its adversaries it presses forward. A messenger declaring that the King ought not to be forgotten, for He prepares the earth for His return. Stripping bare both mighty and modest alike, cleansing the weary roads we have wandered down all year, to set before us a new path. 

Now elevated arms stretch toward the grey vault, reaching out, trembling in sanctified fear and in praise of their King. Knowing that though He allows a season for winter He will not forsake them, for He is always faithful to bring the spring.