If you need air.

9:06 AM
Wrapped in sheets- the bottom of her jeans wet from morning's efforts.
If you need air- the open window looks inviting.
Snow seems to stretch for eternity- covering the earth lain out by a King.
The miry clay wrapped in her own blanket,
Red flesh unseen by the consistent grace of each individual flake.

How beautiful and yet how easily forgotten.

Out of the clay she came and
Into the clay she will return-
The crimson dirt no longer stained with the blood of her transgressions.

The window pain, cracked and cold, calls her to the great promise of renewal

By the covering of grace

Only a King can pour out.