Light lay cold in the winter sky
Sun streaked gold on the path that lie
Between the ice and boot pack snow
That took me to my boyhood home.
A walk of little import then
Has come to call in time again
For no particular reason why
But for the similarity of the sky.
Seeds must be scattered wide
And fall beneath the winter sky
That come to rest upon the soul
In quiet ways we do not know.
Angel winds have gifts to bear
Streaming multicolor in the air
Tracing lines inside the soul
Between the ice and boot pack snow.
For now I’m left to wonder why
I saw things in the winter sky;
What’s more today to turn again
And find it just as I did then.