High on Happiness

For the mottled orange bark beneath the silky snow, and the hundred limbs the snow etches against the pale sky;

For its reaching and its leaping dance, frozen in time, and how it sings to every eye that sees it;

For the eyes that see it and the hearts that thrill to its song; and to those who walk beneath it unaware;

For the sky that sends the snow and for each sparkling flake heaped on its branches;

For the day and its light and for the sleeping wind and the utter silence that surrounds it;

For the snowy ground beneath it and the ground beneath the ground that give it all birth, let there be joyous praise.  Let there be thanksgiving and praise.

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