My fingers ache
from the cold
and for those
who cannot come in
from the cold.
My heart aches for family, friends
and people I have not met, will never meet,
who heavy loads bear:
illness and sorrow
grief, pain and worry.
My soul aches for God’s children
in this city and around the world
who endure violence,
overt or structured
this day, every day.
I ache.
And I wonder,
is there a balm?
7 January 2014
Shire Near the Hudson
Along the Graybeard Trail 