“I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape – the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show.”
The wind folded, ice creased leaves. Summer leftovers. Lingering green ripples beneath a spangling of chill stars.
I savor this season.
Listening to the rain-muffled fireworks ringing in a New Year, it is impossible not to rejoice.
Overtures of bird call are filtered through the breeze-shaken bare bones of January trees.
In the darkness, hints of light. That is enough to send shivers through fingertips tapping on a keyboard, enough to ignite the unlikely fire that bursts through winter kindling.
The Writer Elkhound and I wish all, collectively and individually, a New Year brimming with thoughtfulness and wonder.