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A friend sent this my way and it seems an apt meditation for a snowy, slushy Saturday (at least, here in New York City) when a lot of people are finishing their shopping, wrapping gifts, mailing cards, buying eggnog, hanging lights, baking pies or otherwise freaking out.
Not in the solitude
Alone may we commune with
Heaven, or see
Only in savage wood
And sunny vale, the present Deity;
Or only hear its voice
Where the winds whisper and the waves rejoice.
Even here do I behold Thy steps,
Almighty! — here, amidst the crowd,
Through the great city rolled,
With everlasting murmur deep and loud —
Choking the ways that wind
‘Mongst the proud piles, the work of human kind.(William Cullen Bryant, 1794 – 1878)