A quiet settles on the hills
Augmented by the birds,
Everything is softer --
A time for fewer words.
A time best spent listening
To the voices of the land,
How softly winter guides us
With her wondrous hand.
Unless we are grounded in Mystery -- unless we experience both ourselves and others as co-participants in Mystery -- we find it almost impossible to live in compassionate love of one another for any length of time. Unless we have "new eyes" that can see others contemplatively, it is easy to miss the many-spendored thing that is our life together.