Fragility

Winter is like a movie about life’s fragility.

I watch it through my window, but I don’t understand it.

Fragility? I do not recognize that.

I see beauty; snowflakes dancing in the wind; stars shining on crystal clear nights.

I feel the warmth of a crackling fire and the comfort of a hot cocoa in my hands.

But I do not see fragility.

I do not see it until the firelight grows dim and the woodpile gets small;

Until I open the door, and icy winds meet my face.

How long could I survive out here, I wonder.

How long would it take for the cold to reach my bones?

And now, I feel what I could not see through the window.

I feel life’s fragility.

I feel how weak I am compared to the relentless snowflakes.

I feel how small I am beneath the star-filled sky.

Wolves howling and icy gusts chase me back inside.

Soon, I feel the warmth of a crackling fire and the comfort of a hot cocoa in my hands.

I watch winter through my window.

It is like a movie about life’s fragility.