Thanks God – all remains with me. Fountain - pen, a sheet of paper. Snowstorm’s drone behind the wall. And a band of night’s lights, may be.
Thanks God – everything is mine: night, the star in blue, the lot. Quiet – and being all around. On the window-pane hoar frost.
Thanks God – nobody to pay, give advice, or an account… And mute stars’ golden cover shakes the darkness of the night.
Here, amidst the silent snows, such deep quiet – my reward. Thanks God, that for nothing more I am asking from You, Lord.