This is my winter ……

I love the idiosyncratic, like the battering of hail against a window on an ice covered morning; the settling-down sighs that drift through the house at the midnight hour when the temperature falls below the comfort of moans; a long enamored cry of a lone seagull as it drifts through the mists that live on these mountains.

I love the echo of a loon across a silent marsh, and the nothingness that hovers over the lakes in the dew of early morning. And when I walk across a puddle of rain-water that has frozen into a patch of ice, I like the cracking sound it makes.

White foam along the surf’s edge; mussels at low tide; oyster beds in the swell of the ocean; and a train that can be heard, in a hollow winter’s day, long after it’s gone …………….

... just stop for a minute.

　

Perfect.