my Texas bends

convened in front of a fire

silence sits next to us

the cold is cut by ribbons of stillness that weave around

and warm our voices…

whispers winding into laughs

and listening;

there is no power to allow

us our vices…

we are as it was 100 years ago/

snow and cold

stronger than man and machine

white is nature now

trees bent -

branches hang low/

few grasses poke above the earthen blanket

everything is rounded and smooth;

an Artic blast southern sent -

and my Texas bends

to nature

inside the fireplace gathers us

its hearth our anchor our source

the fires’ red orange yellow white flames

snapping the air

flickering fingers

leap for its oxygen

giving back energy

so serene.

It is a blessing.