And there in the snow, a freshly covered footprint

It is a perfect evening in Winnipeg: heavy snow oh soft snow rests on the boughs of the evergreens, evergreens now white. The air is crisp, though mild while the night sky buttery soft, a tiger tiger ice cream. After garbage, river walk, I take the winding trail dusted powder, view of Red. Just returned from potluck meal, a meeting of house church leaders. We told old stories from the heart, drew up plans for coming year. March deserts of cream cheese & apple, and coffee that was maple. Then gowns, then suits, and giant bows, the academy awards are served with friends in basement lined with books. In the afternoon there were gifts, a nap on the small couch. Filling a cart with bread and salad. Lunch at three. We made a trip to the Mulvey market. Piled bodies of well-worn action figures, narrow lanes of lampshades and paintings. Friendly people who cannot organize. We arrived here from church, a morning at Elim chapel. Stained glass and cleansed hearts. Communion cups and crackers (where do they get the silver trays, an old warehouse downtown?). And bodies dead and storms and storms and hems of garments, healed! Botkin gives the message drives it down the giant organ pipes the wind a vent that opens, shuts, a choir and gospel favorites, a favorite, indeed.