winter

I cannot capture the silence. The snow covered ground, the grass and trees and flowers and zucchini hibernating under a blanket of white. The sun melting the ice cycles clinging to the eaves. The stillness of the sea, my breath, the wind through splintered planks long forgotten, rotting into the frozen ground. She knows every knife’s given purpose, every jewel’s history, she knows the winter’s embrace and the long length of a gifted day. I learn to breathe, to listen, to feel. A place I love, with people I love, people full of sound and joy and bright movement. The silence hibernates in their shadow.