There was something so richly alive about today, from the moment I stepped outside the house into air crisply reveling in the latest snow fall. It was this layer to the briskness of the morning, that was as if spring were coiled and waking from a cold slumber. Rising as unseen as sap beneath the tree's surface, bursting with life. A freshness that slide around my weary body as delicately as a chilled lake. It reminded me of the movie "Return of the King" as Faramir tells Eowyn that the cold is just the damp of the first rains of spring. I had such hope in my mind as the sun gasped, not in glory, but in shuddering beauty on the Eastern wall this morning. The sky is the same sky, the clouds the same clouds, the trees still quiet within their reveries, but within me the day shimmered. Nothing exciting happened, no grand news, nor epiphanies, but on days when the air is alive and my blood answers its jubilant call, the boundless potential of life seems enough to keep a hum on my lips and power the words in my mind.
