• Kate Godin

Cradle

When I lay back

in the cradle of snow,

I understood, for once,

where I was—here—

and why:


to be held

and

to behold


the silent, breathing

project I’m part of,

along with everything else.


Sunk into the me-shaped space

instantly offered

by a million tiny crystals,

there was no distance,

no other,

no elsewhere


just the deepest communion

and the surprising warmth

of the winter womb,

in which I was

gently rocked

by my own breath

and wonder.

Photo by Donald Giannatti


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