Arctic winds kill angels. I have no scripture, no faith to keep me warm. I stand on this platform shivering, feeling sorry for myself, then I noticed the angels.
I whispered prayer for them, which floats downward, along with all the others I said this season. When they pile up and cover the ground, they are shoveled away. That's alright. When the prayers melt, god will hear them, because god is under the ground, where it is warm.
|poor birds taken with my iPad mini (1st gen) w/on board camera app|