a pink blanket

i'm grateful for winter, and though i complain and fret over a bitter cold that we are not used to...i look up and whisper thank you.

thank you for the winter that strips the trees bare and thank you for the dawn's pink sky so the branches dance dizzily in contrast. they bend and sway in the breeze that travels down their spines. and in these moments when i can see that beauty, i'm not cold but, am warmed by wonder that is something greater than me. they are so tall and i am just a short speck. the sheltering sky that has protected an untold, uncountable number of others who have also looked up and saw the branches.

people that stopped and looked for that moment and people that only glanced while they hurried on.
were they happy - comforted - content ... or were they consumed by burdens they could not share.
what echoes live on in those branches?
i stop and i wonder why...what...when.
the answers that may never really come and still i accept that fact, though it never stops me from wondering.

and patty griffin sings on...somewhere beyond the bitter end is where i want to be.
and though i'm not at that place, i remember it - bare and barren.
and then i remember the pink skies that serve as blankets in the cold.

i climb into the blue jeep and head downtown. the radio silence surrounds me.
today it is the perfect sound of nothing but the fan of the heater.
and...it is enough. just that is enough..and the memory of pink skies and branches.