The snow is a silent falling this morning .

white dress of winter’s prominence .

The temperatures are equally a quiet

presence as the single digits fall .

The birds are hushed with gray sky’s

hanging a winter blanket in the fields,

touching, no lines, no horizons

just gray on white and back again.

I bathe in the silence of aloneness.

Tucked in my home and

I am warmed by the fire,

knowing in the winter’s storm

I am blessed.

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