Breath

leaning  hard against the winter window

breath appears as cloud,

fingers tracing, perhaps, a name

walking through winter woods

breath escapes to be seen, 

as tho’ leading the way deeper

there comes this visible Breath

in places where there is no room

no hope, no end-in-sight

there comes this Breath that invites

shepherds from hills

and stars to sing

fingers tracing a name. . .

Prince of Peace

leaving our deeper longing breathless

Peace and some quiet,

Pastor Susan