Winter is a time for truth, a time
for trees to shiver from their golden robes
and step forth bare before the dawn,
as if to say, here, this is what i am;
even when no leaves are left,
yet am i beautiful
Snowdrifts fall to muffle all the noise;
one crunches underfoot to warn
us not to break the silent smiling
of a meditative world.
hush, it says, and listen to her breathe
The crisp near-frozen air outside is clear,
and I can see across the shoveled walk
on which each footstep tells whence it has been.
Your windows glow with warmth and home,
with gathering in people to your hearth:
an invitation, and an echo of
the stories, laughter, love, and truth
you gather 'round your heart.
We open our homes
and warm our hands with rich, slow-rising bread,
comfortably sharing recipes.
smell this, I feel to say.
this place that you have made -
it is good