Running in the cold proved quite a struggle this morning in terms of breathing, but perhaps there was a blessing in it: my body made me slow down and pay attention.

From Denise Levertov:

"The Breathing"

An absolute
patience.
Trees stand
up to their knees in
fog. The fog
slowly flows
uphill.
White
cobwebs, the grass
leaning where deer
have looked for apples.
The woods
from brook to where
the top of the hill looks
over the fog, send up
not one bird.
So absolute, it is
no other than
happiness itself, a breathing
too quiet to hear.