In the aftermath of the winter storm
My heart drums the journey...

Every footfall is a brushstroke
in Calligraphy
(a balancing of equals)
yin pursuing yang,
yang leading yin
Tumbling the ancient circle
across a new page
of crusted snow

The exhalations of my Spirit
curl in the clear air
Like Ethereal Dreams of Beauty
Dissolving...
Before my flying feet
can reach them

An empty cup--
I runneth over
with Mantras of Peace and Serenity
Seined by this morning's wind

(with Reverence)
My hands release them
to catch the next scribe
who races toward them
on a winter's day