Here in this lovely mid-winter now, in this earth-breath where the stream flows open beneath the rusty spent leaves of young oaks, where white sycamores reach to the sky and the snow lies in rounded mounds above the singing waters, is reason enough to keep on.
Here, in this vast lonely landscape, with my boots kicking up powdered diamonds and wee birds chirping in the trees, I watch the play of light and shadow and need nothing more.
The slow melodious rhythm of it all wraps me in its wisdom; the clarity of its light heals my heart. Here in this lovely singing now, in this perfect moment, peace dances glorious and free, even though it is winter.