The bones of winter reveal the essence of things. Fire and ice, stark contrasts. What is most fundamental pushes through. The warmth of a hand. Roots that reach deep. Sprouts that emerge in the springtime. The ability to endure. Make love that is loving. Indulge in the guilty pleasures of creation. Whoever told you that you should not failed to notice the wild ponies prancing along the shore and the bluetailed lizard warming itself on the brick siding. The moment was meant to be seized. Go. Go resolutely. Go back to the tree, climb up into its arms and receive its oakhearted embrace.
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