There's joy, and there's grief -- 
Like contrast in the winter light and cold, 
Like living waters underneath the ice, 
The way the breath comes cold, but goes out warm. 
The way, now, this December 
Chooses to encircle all I sense and feel, 
Holding me in place, tethering me to 
An open space, where loss cannot be shelved,  
Nor its full value minimized. 
We breathe because the breath is us, 
We sing because music is life, and life, music; 
But every tune that moves us to dance 
Has its place for tears, as well -- 
A different sort of living waters we keep 
Beneath ice