Softly brushed onto low-hanging boughs of fir
The snow hangs heavy like fresh biscuits
And the dark cool green of the trees are thinking
Beneath them, sorting out the problem of the snow
That holds their fragile needles down
The sun is high and piercing in a blank blue sky
The snow has already fallen in the night
One can pad out in the snow with tender feet
And it creaks like a rocker under a grandmother's weight
The trees drinking the cold icewater from beneath
And one must struggle to breathe in
It is so still in the pine forest
Inside the cabin there are oranges scattered on a wooden table
And you can walk back inside and shut the door softly
While the heat surrounds you and takes off your coat
You peel an orange all in one peeling in a spiral
And lay your crocheted hat down on the table beside the oranges
And warm yourself to the heater that makes the electric buzz
And look at a magazine that takes you faraway
The bed is made up in the corner with a blue, white and red quilt
And your boots are laying against the side of it
Corner pulled back to show a soft set of sheets
And the refrigerator is full of salami and cheese
There is a photogeraph of someone expected for Christmas
And a radio beside your bed
You take off your clothes and crawl into bed
And turn on the radio and listen to the oldies
And stare off into space
Hugging yourself to yourself and thinking
In Jesus' Name,
Amen