A relative sent me this poem in her Christmas card 
and I knew that I had to share it with you this winter.
This was one of our trees a year ago today, March 7, 2013
White Fields
By James Stephens

In the winter time we go
Walking in the fields of snow;
Where there is no grass at all;
Where the top of every wall,
Every fence, and every tree,
Is as white as white can be.

Pointing out the way we came,
-Every one of them the same –
All across the fields there be
Prints in silver filigree;
And our mothers always know,
By the footprints in the snow,
Where it is the children go.




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