Here's a Christmastime poem that seems rather apt for flying back into the East Coast mess that is this Spring's snowstorm
On winter morn
In silent hush
I dreamt I flew
And felt the rush
The world outside
Just breaking slumber
As I, in dream
Embodied thunder
Sweet linen snow
Its glitter bright
Lit up the world
Banishing night
I, above
Observed all life
Its joyful gifts
Its endless strife
Chelsea Moore, Portland OR, Winter 2016