A brisk walk along a stream provides so much to see and hear.
The water is free in some places.
In other’s is sliding slowing under the ice with a whisper of sound.
The bite, like rubbing alcohol on my skin, brushes my cheeks, but I don’t notice
I can only feel
I can see the sun, but its warmth can’t get through the mist from the water.
I am cold on the outside, but my heart is warm.
I am here. I am alive.
