Magic
I walk
On a cold frosty morning
Crunching of ice under my feet
To clear my head
Pages of lists
Left at home
Gifts to buy
Dinners to cook
Snowmen to build
Tree to trim
House to clean
Cards to write
Clothes to wash
Calendar to check
Again
I breathe
Cold air in
What is the point
Of all the lists?
Slow beam of sunlight
Shines through
Gray clouds
Transforms fresh white snow
Into fields of shimmering diamonds
Magical
In one second
Heavy thoughts become a prayer
God fill me
Let me create, like You
The magical in all
I do
This Christmas.
Sarah Brutovski
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