This morning I open the curtains to a wall of white. It isn’t snow… it is cold, frozen… if you can imagine it. There is a thin sliver of a moon hanging over my head and the colors pink and orange are vying to be the main attraction, in this winter show. Nothing, save the river - is moving. Even that is crawling with the heaviness that comes from temperatures that dip this low. I see a bird sitting still at the very top of the willow tree and I think… how? How can you stand it? The pink parachute of a cloud over his head, drifts slowly by as the sun illuminates the sky, the softest gold and blue. It looks like there’s a cloud hovering at midlevel and I am suspended in it. How grateful I am that this window to the outside world shields me in my warm little cocoon.
These are my thoughts on opening my eyes.
It’s a new day and I am still here. I will rejoice.