At the height of a mid-March day,
the sun is hidden beyond layers of stratus clouds.
Snow falls and a trio of ravens circles the sugar-topped pines, gliding above the slow footed creatures below. They glide above the slush and mud and slump of this temperamental season.
A the height of a mid-March day,
they remind me to look up.
To number my blessings by the flakes that descend,
to hold each crystalline wonder against the black pupil of my mind's eye,
to behold their beauty suspended in this moment and give thanks.
These blessings can float by unnoticed, small as they are, but now I enlarge my vision and capture them for what they are - all the little gifts that collide and stick together to shape my hallowed landscape.
The ravens move on, and so will this day.
Time to turn from window-gazing to worthy work,
but I hold these frames yet, and I will go imprinted by magnified joy.