Take me back to winter days
spent by the front bay window
with nothing to do but
watch the snow
Falling…
Falling…
Falling…
from the welkin of heaven.
Ah! There I am:
kneeling on the couch.
Pressing my forehead
against the icy glass,
fogging it with my breath
as birds flit back and forth
from branch to feeder, back again,
dodging flakes as if by magic.
I come again
to my mother’s voice
singing through the storm.
To dripping scarves and mittens
drying on iron vents.
To the smell of oatmeal cookies
baking in the oven.
To the taste of buoyant marshmallows
softly vanishing in hot chocolate.
To the serenity of a child’s home
marinating in sheltering love.
Under Christ’s Mercy,
Brent