Thursday, November 28, 2019

singing ice


  Winter has begun. Autumn never stays long where I live. Though it has only snowed once so far and yesterday it was warm enough to rain, there is that sharp scent in the air. An almost metallic cool that hardens the wind and clears the night sky. It means winter is waking up, and stretching her frigid body over the earth before curling tightly her frosted fingers around each branch and windowpane and coating the very veins of the earth with rebirth.

  It has been one year since I started this blog. When I wrote that first post, I craved nothing more than rebirth. And still, I crave it. Like the river, hardening, freezing in upon itself before breaking, releasing and melting to a crystalline surface, I hunger for metamorphosis.

M.

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