Child’s Religion

This early morning quiet
Many inches on the ground
Falling softly still, six-fifteen
Straight down, not a sound.

The sagging branches, wet white
Up north Dakota Territory
The way of it at thirty degrees
Another clean winter story.

Tip toe up and down
Whisper softly to each one
No school today, ice and snow
Maybe heaps before it’s done.

Really seriously can’t believe
Never happened before
Thank you, Jesus, and
Please send some more.

Snow-covered wind spinner

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