New Snow

A winter’s morning

A new fall of snow

Silence. Light. Peace.

Across the water the new snow

Lifts off the ice, no breeze apparent

To a height of ten or twelve feet

And remains suspended in the air.

As if God raises a white-sleeved arm

And holds a gesture of invitation, saying

“Come and see the new this day. See I make all things new.

“Always. Even when the established appears eternal.

“Even when the bones of the earth seem locked in positions of pain.

“There is the new to know today.

“The unexpected, held open for your delighted inspection,

“That you, even you, may know yourself new, made new in the silence.”

Finally the new snow drifts down again and rests on the ice as the law of gravity would desire.

But see? There is a higher law, with greater imagination.