Sarah’s Dad is a renaissance man. He read my little winter poem and responded in the comments:
The Snow Is Also
The snow is also blanket to the seed,
out of sight but waiting to be born.
As is the name upon a stone,
no longer close but never far,
beneath the snow,
in each of us.
I took the liberty of titling it. Goals shortly.
By the way, David is also a painter. He painted the painting on the right behind him in this photo.
Spooky painting, I know.
He also took a photograph that was used for a stamp.
I could go on, but I won’t because I’m a little jealous. I think I need to make him a Wikipedia page.