HERSELF, A TOTEM
In the blinding white there she sits — tail loosely encircling the weathered post, patiently enduring the sub-zero ice. Translucent crystal coats the boughs, blades and eaves. The storm has given an unyielding, fierce chill, yet she tenaciously cleaves. I wonder how those precious pink pads will carry her painlessly to the warmth of the barn. Jaime, intrinsically herself, a symbol that speaks of dignity and innate goodness sent to shepherd us. As the cottonwood branches groan with silver-white glass, the creaking amplifies the silence. The air slicing my flesh, I gather her to my warm breast. I see that the frigid air stings her nostrils as it does mine. I carry our emblem of grace toward the house. We cross the brittle matte of snow to the welcome jingle of the back door bell and further in to the blast of heat.