Funny how I didn’t want to do this either—
bundle coats,
tug boots,
check clocks,
check again
Most of all I didn’t want the
sting of chill air on warm cheeks,
the reminder that, no, I won’t be
going back to bed
Yet somehow
these morning walks have become
a treasure, a ritual, a welcome pause
amidst the hurried mornings
Out in the chill with nothing but the
swirling snow, soft crunch of footsteps,
tiny hand in mine,
my heart resets like a watch to
the clock tower
And isn’t it always like that?
Me, standing reluctant at the door,
when all along, You are just outside?
I know this—I’ve found You there in
the marvel of mountain tops,
the light and shadow of dappled woods
But You know me—
I forget, and forget again
So You call to me with the stillness of snow,
knocking,
ever waiting,
just outside my door
