Sunlight cups the water wind.
Wisper the cold valley into my head.
Moutain edges cut the horizon for miles and miles.
Wet stone like charcoal
Dipped in Irish green moss
Caught in the ocean mist.
Standing in the icy creek with waterfall water washing at my skin. Light blissfully rests on my closed eye lids.
Feel the ground.
Empathy for the folds in the valley light that crawls along magnificent for infinity.
I can feel the dandelion spores.
They swing on strings and bring the clouds down.
Down.
They pick apart all the clouds until it snows.
Snow silently crystallizes leafless birch trees.
Winter flows in every direction until the creek unfreezes.