the way sumac seeds collect in yesterday’s footprints
the way the pines stand, two by two
and the way their branches tangle
the way the snow falls on my face, and fogs the field into soft edges
the way I forget to look up, as I watch my feet for snow hidden stumblings
the way I turn at the end to walk it again, more slowly, taking time to look up
***
may we be well
may we notice beauty
may we be easy and open and soft
