Wake up, my soul.
I don't know where you are,
where you're hiding,
but wake up, please,
we're still together,
the road is still before us,
a bright strip of dawn
will be our star.
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Only my footsteps in the snow, Only the glow of my fire, Only a choir of wind to sing the benediction. But I feast on memories In a holy place. It has been so long since I have heard my own voice It startles me When I say the grace. May all things lost, apart, alone Find some small shelter of their own.
~ from THE ART OF BEV DOOLITTLE, "A Mountain Man's Christmas" by Elsie Maclay