PRAYER WRITTEN ON THE 10 BUS IN DECEMBER


I love mornings like these
when the snow moon stares down
and the sky is milksnow
and moonlight, the air so
cold and pure it hurts
to breathe and your skin
shrinks to ice and you gasp
with wonder, a prayer
that the world is buried
and it's all so deliciously
cold and milk blue and
empty, so quiet that
you hear your blood
quicken, your breath
a miracle, you're
alive after all! And
for this blessed moment
you are a holiness,
a ghost haunting all
the loveliness.