February 4, 1996 – Sunday – 4:30 p.m.

I’m looking out my window.  God’s sun and man’s electric heater have melted the frozen moisture.  I can see the winter tree’s.  I can see the frozen leaves.  I can see the trails in the snow from Murrell’s sled as we both left our cares behind and flew down the hill.

But the wind has blown snow onto those trails.  And they are not as visible as they were yesterday.

Soon, all the snow will be gone.  And the trails will be in my mind only.

Is my mind frozen?

Is my heart?

When will summer come to me?

When will warm love come?

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