Sweet Winter Wind

Sweet winter wind in my face, blinding me with snow and chilling me to my bone, I thank the creator that the depths of this day recall my frailty. The warrior must challenge his mental picture. This is hard to do, as we are too much full of ourselves, overcome with the brilliance of our importance and broad living; but when the cold bites our nose and the snow blinds our eye, we are nudged toward truth about where we stand within the scheme of things. Where would one flake be in a field of snow if it were not for the freeze to adhere them one to another. Ah, sweet winter wind in my face.