I reminded myself that I had survived the cold
when I went out to feed the chickadees. Besides,
this was the first snow of the winter, slight as it was,
to hang around for a while, and the sky had patches
of blue and all that rare, brilliant sunshine.
I relented. And the next thing I knew, there I was,
in the pines beside the lake, just passing the nursery
and noticing how the sunlight danced on the young ones’
glossy needles. But it was the dazzling light itself
that drew me. “Come,” it invited. “Look from here.”
I followed the tall shadows it cast on the ground,
the snowy spaces between them dazzling in the light,
and every inch of the place clear as the crisp air,
and singing “Hallelujah!”