In Humble Adoration

Winter’s dismal cold,
when every breath
was an op art sculpture,
was more than a season;
it was a miracle of survival
where even I,
who sometimes struggles
with each step,
walked on water.
Of course it was frozen;
everything was
and along the margin of the bay
where daffodils will bloom in spring,
I slow stepped
in boots with tread so thick
it would make Michelin proud.
Everybody knows it takes a sturdy sole
to stay upright in winter.
Thank you Lord
for an encouraging calendar
and the hint of green
on my lawn.


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