We are thankful today for the light fading in embers

for trees, frost-barren, that will flower forth in spring

for the great black dog who romps friendly in the drifts

for the pale pink sunlight that ends our tranquil day.


And surely we’re thankful for that bliss of the body

quiet at the center, even when illness rails

for tea, milk and sugar, sweet in the frosty morning

for the deep cold afternoon that chills our bones delightful.


We give praise for the white dove on the wire, singing

for the bright snow that falls and kisses the lips

and thanks for the gray clouds that stoke our winter dreams

and the fire in the heart that comforts us endlessly.


We cherish without measure the joy of our companions

the carefree walks, lolling along the frozen river

and thanks for the pain that reminds us of pleasure,

for the shadow of death that defines our fortunate lives.


Thanks for quiet contentment, praise and heroic laughter

for the money that buys us bread at our table

for the chance to offer to the supplicant at our door,

thanks for this brief time we call now and all.


Thanks for love following us, tracking us down, pinning us

for the restful warmth once we’re down for the loving count

for affection sustaining us, bursting out and all over us

for the righteous energy of everything, embracing us right now.


Even a thanks as we say goodbye, the light of the world diminishing

thanks for body, blood, and bone, unquenchable spirit

for this rare and plain opportunity just to be here

in winter’s home that heaven cannot faintly imitate.