Day dawns slow and pretty
in the sifting, wistful snow —
sky dark, snow light,
air held in windless stasis

These days, our sense of purpose
can easily drift, though we walk
in the cold air and the snow crunch
and ground ourselves, as best we can,
among the winter trees

We will hold hands and remind each other
our work is not in things
we can tick off lists,
and our gain, from each day,
is somewhere deeper than here,
something we may see again sometime.

©Wendy Mulhern
January 14, 2020