Smoke billows from my chimney and I wonder if it feels good to be a gaseous mass of heat and carbon released into the cold winter air.
I witness a pillow of snow on a tree branch receive its final snowflake releasing it to the ground below. I wonder how light it must feel.
When heat rises within me and is begging to escape, what is my winter breeze? When my limbs get too heavy and I need to let go, where does the snow land and what is below?
A January mountain lets out a whine and drops it’s many layers of ice. I think that it can finally breathe.
I witness the hurricanes and typhoons rip up everything below them. I can’t help but to be jealous of their torrential tears.
When there is an avalanche crashing inside of me, who can hear it and who can run? When my waters begin to rage, who gets swallowed by my spinning seas?
As I am collecting my winter self, I ask the divine creator of these things; Will I too be gifted the knowledge shared by the pine, the mountains, the smoke, and the sea? Will I too so naturally surrender and release the heaviness that burdens me?
11/2023
Chloeandclover 