Tuesday, March 1, 2022

They wonder what I am doing, retreating behind this brush, kneeling. I am tending the ember you gave me.

Gloom grows before dawn, wind whips.

No fire will catch, yet the coal will warm me. Maybe a neighbor will see, and come, and warm themselves, too.

Let my kneeling figure be a quiet invitation to enjoy relief from the chill.

(Letter #2,577)