it’s sparse and bare like winter white
with washes of snow falling from spruce boughs
for we have had our MRIs and CTs
and scopes and scalpels and chemical baths
and know uncertainty and know fear
and know despair and let in care of others
so look up with single line of melody
lifting floating in vertical rise
flawed ragged fragmented pebbled with doubt
yet still rising unhindered free flowing still
in unhurried phrases toward ultimate
creative love simple prayer of praise
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