when it doesn’t snow

i’m walking across the wooden floor and grime comes with me.  there is dirt under my red slippers.  boots, kicked off on a towel also dirty, lay on their side with mud caked on. there is no snow to play in this year. no soft white quiet to cover the whole mess of the earth

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it makes a change

it’s good to see the water moving. to see water carrying sunlight and twigs under small bridges.  it’s good for nature to prove that frozen water thaws into spring. that sun will shine down through bird song once again this year. always winter and never christmas was realer than i’ve known it this year.  when

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the perseverance of snow

small at the start.  the snow is falling and i watch from the house.  it barely dusts the yellow slide in the yard.  i doubt it’s ability to accumulate. but my doubt has little to do with what is or isn’t true. both my doubt and my faith can seem irrelevant to god.  he does

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dangerous motherhood

the sky is grey and still we drive towards the shore. “i think it’s starting to rain.  are you guys sure you want to go?” “mom.  it’s the beach.”  he tells me deadpan. “we are wearing bathing suits.  they can get wet.”  four year old logic explains it to me. we swim and it sprinkles.

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just this

when the rain starts and the sheer curtain blows away from the open window, i don’t mind.  i see a picture of my frantic self running from open window to open window shutting out the storm. the thunder rumbles and the birds quiet down.  it had been a perfect day.  i sat in the shade

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