Looking out the window
the only sound
I hear is the hum
of the Pellet stove
that warms the room.
Amidst and amongst
those at the table
faces of folks
at war with themselves
for so many years
that they had forgotten
why
heavy their burdens
hard to carry
no one able
or willing
to lift a finger
to help
but if you
listen
carefully
to the
moments
within
the
silence
you hear them
one
by
one
utter
little bits
of
gratitude
for
family
God
the tender caress of kindness
sobriety
life
death
Looking out the window
the only sound
I hear is the hum
of the Pellet stove
that warms the room
On the other
side
of the window
rests
a barren
snow covered
terrain
its naked trees
immovable
and
still
a
brown
leaf
floats
to the ground
I ponder
who have you touched
on your way
through life?
who's life
has touched you?