When I go between the slippery sidewalks,
The snow covered battlefield,
Washed white like sins on the wooden cross,
Half the world still sleeps.

And when I come to the slushy street,
The hum of cautious tires,
Up from the slippery tug of the icy cement,
Is a wordless soundtrack

A sapling arches scattered branches,
But not a solitary leaf on any,
Peaceful, I think at least, for its picture
Comes colored in purity.

I have come full circle again
By the footprints impressed
Of my whereabouts viewing this scene
To keep when the sun comes out