The quiet stillness of winter
that silent falling snow brings.
Its white beauty leaves a mark
on all it touches.

I am warm here
inside under blankets and layers.
The heater spurts hot air
to keep me snug and cozy.

The squirrels move in bursts
fits of flight and fancy
Gathering what they can
to survive another day.

I marvel at the young ones
who have a playful spirit
among the game of survival.
The snow falls onto them.

They seem not to notice
the snowflake kissing its cheek.
I find my own sense of joy
in the slow quiet gray.

A warm mug in my hands,
and soon a pen appears. 
It scrawls across the paper now. 
We are all connected.

Even the shelter, the comfort
a façade for what is true.
This day is a gift.

Our bodies roll and turn.
We stretch our muscles and our limits. 
Limitless ground sprawls to the horizon.

The nameless critters
and those with wings
take flight
a dark mark across a gray white sky.

Snow floating down
quiet and blanketed.
The Earth sleeps and I
find comfort in nature‘s ever changing beauty.

Mine for the taking
as our bodies merge into one
green and blue globe.

We aren’t that different
sheltered and warm
a facade for what is true.
This day is a gift.