We come into this stillness like snowfall, the air alive with angels, every blessed flake singular and mysterious, what's outside quiet now, and changing form. Quickening, we breathe silence. Presence holds our lives in hush. Light dazzles. Listening, we learn to answer.
Even if you just stand
to watch the tea kettle boil.
Sunlit mornings and creaky steps
with oversized blankets
and soggy eyes
welcome another try at life.
It's dusty and quiet–
just a soul trying to wake up
and a cup of tea.