i am the beauty of summer caressing fall 
i am the shadow upon the mountain 
i am the undaunted seed finding the sun 
i am a rock mountain resting in a small hand. 
i am the mud prints holding the presence of elk. 
i am the rustling leaves singing like a river. 
i am the driftwood sitting as I AM.

Winter is my soul’s current season. No, not the winter seen as a frozen nursemaid to spring. No, not the winter seen as the requiem of summer and autumn. It is the winter of the birth of a child and the pause of silence before the first breath is taken and the soul’s voice announced. Expectation. Silence. Anticipation. Hope. Promise.