Shiver

the cold of winter; sun's first light

Shivers dance across my skin.

The cold air of morning captures my breath, takes it away over hills of snow and through bare-branched trees.

Patterns in ice, in frost, in skeletal stalks of grass. The frozen land sleeps and sighs and rests in these short days of winter.

Surrounding mountains cast their shadows, long and deep and cold, across the landscape—the sun is slow to crest their peaks, to grace the mountains with softened light.

It is hours after dawn before she rises enough to offer a muted hello; pockets of brightness catch the exposed snow-covered ridges.

But it is not to last, and the light slowly dims. Clouds move in across the sky; through the crevasses and valleys, they weave and flow. Forming, dissipating ceaselessly—a landscape ever-changing.

See you next time,

♡ Whitney

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