Be it the twenty-first or twenty-second
the snow shines bright on this February morn
I stand in frigid breezes
still in awe of my meditation pond covered with ice and snow
It is 24 degrees with a wind chill of 14,
as I trudge through the snow of yesterday’s footprints
with memories of days gone by
when I would stand in the cold and write with freezing hands
but now at fifty-eight
I sit in this warm automobile writing our story
Oh, take me to calm waters, blue skies and our sparrow’s sweet song.
Take me to days of old and seasons warm
Oh spring, oh summer I long for you
yet winter
you are not my forsaken child
I love your thrills playing on rolling hills blanketed in white
I rejoice in your glistening beauty
I must end my tale
my quest to feel closer to thee
as I sit in this automobile while you howl in the wind
I write and you talk
Yes, I write of my undying love as you whisper sweet nothings to me
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