Our snowman’s Benedictine,
smoothed by weeks of melt and freeze,
cowled by road-grime and gravity.
He has weathered well,
finding his vocation just in time.
Prayerfully, he leans down
to hear our sins and reasons,
but we don’t know what to say.
The storms have come and gone.
He blesses the neighbors
laboring past. A contemplative,
he is patient as winter.
Used to silence and cold
repentance, he keeps faith
until the flood times of grace.