She sat silently, curled up, sipping her steaming cup of tea.
The world outside her window seat was white and soft
Like the comforter nestled around her, only this white was warm.
Her black cat snuggled by her side asleep yet gently present.
Softly, softly, softly snow whispered to the leafless tree
Promising to coat it’s every branch with crystal sleeves
Until its life was made new.
She pulled the navy blue sleeves of her sweater down to cover her hands
And stared at the swaddled brown tree.
Her brown hair slid from behind her ear and masked the side of her face.
Silently, the tree sang his secrets to her through the snow.
Warmth isn’t easy to find. Just like peace.
But the bitter cold can be a beautiful quiet.
Snow slowly drifts to the ground like thoughts.
Resting, Breathing, Sleeping, Quiet, Still.
The movement of the fall doesn’t disturb the stillness.