The Journey Is A Picture
The circle of your lantern patches snow.
by Sandra Fowler
Your face is weather beaten by wind's blow.
The safe moon is unreachable by air,
The fall of dark too eloquent to bear.
And yet your light comes on to me, brave friend.
The journey is a picture with no end.
I wonder. Could you use some company?
Warmth goes a long, long way so they tell me.