I see You, God
in this morning-cerulean sky;

I feel You
in the sun illuminating
this frozen landscape.

I speak; You talk
and I hear You
in a breeze
that scatters from high limbs
tufts of snow —
little white angels fluttering and dancing
on currents.

In this season of withdrawal,
purity is born of introspection
and I taste the deepening connection in the

still

and the

quiet.

I sigh;
branches sway,
and I breathe in the fragrance of

Union

and wonder why I ever
turn away.

© 2008