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Heavy lay the snow the last warm breath
just lingering inside our gloves next to fatigue
it slowed and chilled me and my brothers
toying with a seam at winter’s hem until the cold
was far too much we stumbled home and stood
like living clouds of steam our thrown scarves
garlands for the railing and the chairs
Mother I even began to feel afraid
when the last light topped its arc
those slender luminous birches and fat oaks
towered purple as lit candles guttering
their colors with the evening deepened
stark and bruised full as a falling bowl
then in a moment sickened down to grey
the day extinguished thick fog hung upon our necks
the collars of our coats and wrapped the trees
like soggy paper in itself the darkness threatened me
Mother through the window I could see you sitting
fireside and from the door you seemed all flame
my small cheeks reddened on your breast
stiff fingers curling in your chestnut hair
your breathing lowered me into the deepest trust
Mother you may take me anywhere you go
from the bedding of your arms say to my Father
look at him my love see what we made together.



Photo credit
Daniel Hyland

Daniel Hyland

Daniel is a Catholic writer and voice artist living in the Shenandoah Valley with his wife and daughter. He believes in the power of beauty in life, nature and art as a tool of evangelism, and seeks to follow Christ through study, work and prayer. His favorite book of the Bible is the Song of Songs because of the stunning intimacy it presents both with regard to the sacrament of marriage and the marital union with God to which every soul is called in Christ. He is the proud owner of a small collection of facial hair, charitably termed a mustache.

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Eschatological "Angeloid": Sarah Coakley, Gregory of Nyssa, and On the Making of Man, Pt. 2