Snow blankets in the same brilliant whiteness as the angels covers the rooftops and frozen fields. I gaze out from my palace window on yet another miracle the world overlooks. So many wonders your hand places before us. Daily miracles only your hands can work. Sunrises and sunsets, blood moons and crescent carvings, fog over rolling hillsides, lighting flashes and now this. White limb-lined trees, their movement halted as they bow to you beneath their beautiful new layers. This a glorious sight so many take as common. The eyes of those who don’t believe are so unimaginative and irresponsible. They betray themselves, allowing nothing rise above a state of the natural into the miraculous. Your hands shape everything, Lord. Your sun, your moon – they alone make me a believer in you and your majesty. I pray they speak the same Spirit and faith, someday, to those who won’t give you the glory.