By noon the flakes had slowed to a mere drift in the wind, and the lawns were covered with snow, thick, fresh, and gleaming white. Breathtaking, untouched beauty beckoned to young children waiting just behind each frosted windowpane. One by one, bright coats, scarves, and boots appeared throughout the neighborhood, the powder fluffy and soft beneath their bustling feet. Perfection gave way to snow angels and sled trails.

When all the children had retired from play and the block became quiet once again, a little girl emerged from the old, brick church on the corner. She was wearing a dirty coat and torn gloves, and carried an offering basket into the park, where she set it carefully down in the center of a snow-covered birdbath. She then proceeded to fill the basket with snowballs made by her tiny, cold hands. Within a few minutes she was gone, taking refuge back inside the warm church where the homeless had gathered for an early meal.

After taking off her coat, the little girl placed her icy, winter offerings upon each dinner plate knowing that no one would go hungry this eve.

Copyright © 2004 Marie Summers
Published in the SP Quill Quarterly Magazine, Winter 2005