Puffy figures run about
The frozen snow that lies without
They charge across the white washed yard
To sled the hill with ice turn'd hard
Little legs in chubby pants
Gleefully labor the cold expanse
In their minds' eyes they see themselves
Swift of foot and fleet as elves
Light as linden leaves in lore
And fierce as warriors of yore
But as I gaze through falling snow
My heart laughs for my head does know
Their padded limbs and softened romp
Quiet, though indeed they stomp
Truly goes at speed most doubtful
Keeping company with the absent Apostle
Yet their joy rings out real and true
So that, O hidden Lord, I believe, I love, and thank You too.