Sunday services at home today:
It is not the cold, a balmy minus one,
not even the wind; all is still.
It’s the snow that blocks my door
and hides my car.

Sure, I have a shovel, and it’s doable,
but God in His wisdom sent the Cardinal
himself to lead us in song. First at the feeder
this morning, brilliant
in scarlet,

A beacon on the snow, he sings a reassurance
to those with the heart to hear that all is well.
Soon a choir in various robes: Sparrows and Wrens,
an unusually reticent Jay,
all join in.

I leave the shovel in the shed,
the snow untrodden.
God’s in his heaven, and I’m in my kitchen
watching through the window
with gratitude.