I have been inside way to much this last month, either busy with practicing and the million little things that always seem to need being done, or sick. I feel the absence of the living sky fiercely, I feel the memory of trees pulling me to sit within their shelter and just listen to nothing but the stretching of the branches as the sap starts to flow again within. It is a dull sort of film that covers the day when I am too separate from the landscapes in which I live and my mood and whole being suffers. Time to run across along the hidden paths again, narrowly avoiding the ice that seems to cling tenaciously, the last lingering breath of winter. Time to find the words within the peace of the night stars, to count the infinity of light and let all the stuffiness of indoors go.

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