crossing a snowy field before dawn
everything stops
but your heart––
how could you ever
doubt in miracles?
as you reach the top of a wind-blown ridge
the slate-blue sky
melts into celestial orange––
why were you worried
about dying?
you unsheathe your ax,
but no longer desire
a christmas tree––
go ahead.
believe in santa claus.
the sun has touched the mountain––
walk home to paradise.