I Bow Low

I bow low to God's creations
I bow to the cold of winter rising
To the lack of sun...the lack of flourishing life

I bow to the fox and all of wilderness
To their clever determination 
To live fully as long
As there is an ounce of breath in their bodies

I bow to the rose
That struggled to hold its bloom 
Through the late November chill
To the softness of fragrant petals
To the proud vigilance of its thorns

I bow low