It’s -3 degrees outside. White is the color that pervades the eye and rivulets of dead leaves scuttle along the garden’s floor. Sunlit makes the ground and tree branches sparkle, and birds are busy around the birdfeeders. I can imagine the glowering clouds in inky sky dispatching faint rays of sun; warming up my window.
TODAY I SIT at my desk, here at the office, thinking of all these things, looking out with my mind’s eye at the blizzard of wild garden-swirling-snows and birds, and my comfy chair by the bedroom window.
My soul is trapped. I yearn for freedom.
