Snow |
| This white and grey day I'm caught and held in
winter. Church is cancelled everywhere, says the radio, due to ice on the roads. Crows fly over the house, the first moving creatures of the day; but last night, waking, lying in my bed watching the falling snow, I saw three deer bounding into my neighbor's yard, searching for green leaves to eat. I wished I had apples to throw out to them. . . I have built a fire and closed off the kitchen for heat. Tonight will be bitterly cold, but here in my house I have tea and firewood, and a choir sings on the radio: Glory to the Father... When I feel momentarily lonely, I remember that, even snow-bound, shut away from the world, I am one of countless centers of the universe, of all that is! I needn't search for God, for God is here, dancing with delight in the cells of my body. I am blessed that I have life, and music, inside me! And that God answers my prayer, the central prayer of my heart: Who are You? He tells me, most gently, this morning while snow falls: I am also you, and the snow falling. I am here in this music, and in the fire. Snow falls into evening. My kerosene lamp is lit and the fire banked. I went out with the broom today and hit the heavy cedar boughs to free them from the heaped up snow that might split their branches. Then I brought in more hickory logs, and read Tolkein by lamp light. I gave the crows corn, tossing it by handfuls out onto my shovelled driveway; they ate two cans of it, and the snow turned their beaks white. The snow keeps falling and falling, and it grows dark. Children are on the hillside with sleds, calling to each other. I'll sleep late in the morning, and take off one more day from the office. Tonight I may have winter dreams. Peace, here in my stone house. |
