I looked again.
Apparently, I wasn’t the only one confused by the piles of whiteness. A disoriented Wilson’s snipe was sharing space with a robin on the driveway! (No foolin'!!)
I pulled on my purple coat and a warm ivory scarf, found my ready-for-storage snow boots and my favorite mittens, and opened the door into “pause.”
I was left to wander in snow hush and bird song.
A determined song sparrow warbled from the walnut tree, and everywhere, robins fussed and squabbled, trying to find perches on fence posts with six-inch snow caps. (Oh God, let me be the song sparrow...)
stopping “in my tracks!”
to look up,
So much to see,
in sparkle and shine mode.
for to the snow He says, “fall on the earth...” (even in April.)
That snipe has moved on (he wasn’t frozen in place as I had feared.)
Already, snow is falling in muffled thumps from branches and wires. By day’s end, the whiteness will be a slushy memory along the roadside, and maybe my gratitude will have melted away too. (I’ll work on that...)
Praise the Lord from the earth-
Fire and hail, snow and mist...
If the snow can praise Him, so can I.
Even in April. For snow.