Everywhere, everywhere, snow sifting down, a world becoming white, no more sounds, no longer possible to find the heart of the day, the sun is gone, the sky is nowhere, and of all I wanted in life – so be it – whatever it is that brought me here, chance, fortune, whatever blessing each flake of snow is the hint of, I am grateful, I bear witness, I hold out my arms, palms up, I know it is impossible to hold for long what we love of the world, but look at me, is it foolish, shameful, arrogant to say this, see how the snow drifts down, look how happy I am. Joseph Stroud