The stars are reflected in the glimmer of the headlamp's light on the snow
And the air is frozen-- it feels like the sensation of holding your hand under water so burning hot that
it begins to feel cold
somehow.
Nothing could be more perfect than feeling air rush in and out of lungs, feeling alive when all is still
I am alive.
A day as grey as
the clouds above it
And the hills, which have changed from green to orange to purple to a deepest blue in the fading light
with a few bursts of yellow from the beech trees, holding on in their marcescence
If life is full of the little things
like skating on smooth black ice and laughing with a friend
then I have nothing to look forward to
because there is good in every day.
Dear Mother,
I have missed you these past few months.
Where did you go?
I see you standing there, torch held high, yet you do not answer my calls.
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