Cold.

These skimpy trees can't even seem to cling onto the flesh that the snow provided for them. It just falls off of them like ashes and dust. They're naked now, and that's just the way it is. The shadows are so long, too. Skinny, and stretched, and darker than ever. Not even a full moon the size of Texas could lighten their black stains on the Earth. They are vertical spills of ink, dripping off of everything. It's messy. Infectious. This bitter wind is a smack in the face. It's impossible to ignore it. It's here, and its presence is most certainly known. My bones ache now. I can hear them creaking with every step. It's like walking on brittle hay, or the floor of a towering, ancient forest. That "Crackle Crick Snap" that these joints muster up. And somehow, the season brings gravity. I feel heavy now. But the most alive I've been in ages. Confrontational and brave. Vibrant. These days are clearer and brighter, and they let you know just how small and insignificant you are, and how every time you inhale you breathe in this amazing place and time, and nothing else matters at all! This is you, here, with me, and us, in this place, on this world, and the swirling of life around us flows through everything, connected, and so very, very, amazingly, dangerously, fragile-ly, unreally, real...



Shy away from what's in front of you for once. Don't worry about what's behind you, either. Simply look up. Look Down. Then smile at it all. This is it. Make it count for something.