Harsh the Winter

I peer through my window, adorned by the howling winds' most recent design.

Cold warning again, wind gusts. Dangerous conditions.

Inside, it's warm. The cheap electric fireplace hums, the worn chair welcoming. The TV repeats the same news, nothing good.

But there's a world out there? something to experience? To connect with? To breathe?

How many layers? Memories of dressing children, who walked robotically in the padded snowsuits. Long grown now, their children dress themselves. So much time passed, so many winters.

Two sweaters, a long coat, a woolly hat, boots, and heated gloves. Into Frosty's realm I go!

The wind lessens slightly. Blasts sting the part of my face not covered. It feels refreshingly cathartic.

I am drawn to a mirror, still there. Waiting for summer tourists doing fit checks from beach boutiques.

Ah, spring and summer, definitely more my vibe. It’s there, under this snow. A riot of colors waiting their turn.

Icy sidewalks threaten to upend me with each step. I penguin walk my way to the beach.

Wind blows snowy white veils from the beach. Storms collaborated with the waves to amalgamate sand and ice into fantastical sculptures.

I breathe it all in, the stinging cold, the isolation. The magical tinkling of ice fragments before they succumb to the deep freeze.

My attention is drawn away from the lighthouse. Movement! I am not alone.

There’s another soul out there. A fox far out on the ice shelf, following its senses. Scouting for stranded fish or fowl, perhaps leftovers from an eagle’s prey.

There we are. Both searching for sustenance. His visceral and immediate! Mine, nourishment for a winter soul.