December 16th

There is light in the east and I am drawn from the stars.

There is a fire in the woodstove and a pot of tea on the table. 

A far off steady stream of cars weaves through the trees unbeknownst to the frozen road beneath.

A hemlock bends and waits for the wind to lift its head, stroke its needles, whisper that everything will be just fine.

In the depths of the Sound there is the vibration of fins and teeth and tongues wailing into the receding darkness.

In the forest the owls screech their finalities before closing saucer eyes and tucking themselves into branches.

The hum of modern life cankers its way into my gut and I want to be out of doors, so I go.

The hum of my heart brings the sun over the horizon and the day begins with a song and prayer.