I can still hear the voices as I leave the chapel,
pure and free, singing praise to God.
I have my winter coat on
and tremble with the cold,
but smile when I see pink buds on the trees
near the doors.
The words of praise echo in my head,
and I quietly worship,
wanting nothing but His presence.
Stars. More than I've seen in Chicago in a long time.
I halt my swift, shivering walk
and sweep my eyes across the diamond-strewn sky,
gazing in wonder and delight.
And I praise.
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