On A Cold Winters Morn

        On A cold winters morn, I rise. Listening, walking, taking small steps along cold roads under gray skies. Quiet, at first, until wave after wave of humanity seeks to strangle a fragile peace within. 

         On a cold winters morn I continue on, dreaming of rest, hot drinks, and a much needed reset from the constant running. On this gray and cold day, I looked once more for the sun, for a light outside and inside the "winter" soul that is mine here and now. 

         On a cold winters morn I remember that this is a BEGINNING, ONLY PART of a journey, and NOT all of it. This warms a hope grown cold somewhere deep inside, an active and stirring hope I am grateful for; on a cold winters morn.

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