As I plant my foot into the fresh, virgin snow
The thinking and pondering leaves me
With eyes full of white bliss
And ears full of the songs of birds
As I walk, the air is open and free
I breathe in my imperfections and exhale my cares
Icy wind nibbles at my ears playfully
There is a game we play with nature
By: Jerry Benjamin Stout
No comments:
Post a Comment