To be safe in spite
of a sheath of ice
that covers everything visible
for hundreds of miles,

To be warm in spite
of a cold-rolled slab of wind
that turns temperatures
into weapons,

To be sheltered in spite
of a bitter front
that shunts blood
from extremity to core,

To see once more
the least slice of a winter moon
barely above the western ridge,
slipping into the trees,

To settle in
beneath thick, soft covers
while the wind rattles
the windows,

To feel moved
to share something
with those who have
even less:

This is to be blessed.

H. Arnett
12/10/13