into white

The triumphant crunch of crystals beneath my feet, the exhuberance of a steadfast pup some steps ahead, the liberation that comes with those few first inhalations of fresh air...these form the minutiae of starting anew.

Lately I've felt as fragile as spun sugar, like the lucid geometries of ice collecting into snow. The syrup boils over. Slows, sputters, and stops. Yet in these fantastic moments of recovery, lost in a fitful hibernation of plum-fairy dreams, I've rediscovered the magic of a sky so big and so blue...Look up! It is there.

I do not have a notion now, of the nature of the blogosphere. I wonder, what else is there worth telling. I question, who is listening? Much work will be done, with room for friends and fun, and in the interim, perhaps this space should be silent.

Here's to a New Year of looking outwards and upwards! There is much work to do.

(listen to woods)