I wrote a poem this week.
Here it is. Don't make fun of me. Sharing poetry is kind of a vulnerable thing to do.
Well, for someone of my limited talents it is...
Have a blessed weekend. Grace and peace.
Snow Angel
I know this looks strange to you
what I'm doing
like I'm drowning...or swimming
...or having a seizure,
possessed by some Spirit.
I am making a snow angel.
Moving arms up and down:
the wings.
Moving legs side to side:
the robe.
I've been practicing this my whole life,
with mixed results
depending upon the year.
But I am perfecting this tracing
the more winters I see.
Trying, on this cold earth,
to conform to a pattern.
And when I'm done
I'll rise up
and look back
at an emptiness
that is my self.
A hole that was dug,
now holding
no one.
And I'll turn toward home--
where there is food and warmth and joy--
leaving behind
in this fading light
a shape.
