Cross country skiing at Harris Nature Center

Snow falls from the sky,
Clings to pine needles and sycamore limbs
That canopy Red Cedar River.
Snow falls again.
Ploosh,
Into water almost frozen.
It is cold, so cold.

Breathlets nestled deep in our lungs
Rise warm and swift, 
Like birds startled from our mouths,
Whirl to the treetops,
Warm a bottom branch to the nth degree.
Enough to trigger release, 
A silent descent, 
Soft splash, 
Frozen water into flowing water, 
Sisters meet again.
Easily, as if they had known
All along.
At last.
Softly. 
Stunning.
This is the sound of unexpected understanding. 
Of grief. 
Water into water.
This is the tender sigh of crystal edge into liquid embrace.
Of forgiveness.
Water into water.
This is the audible moment of transformation, a subtle shift of flow.
Of bloom.
Water into water.
This is the symphony of comet tails brushed across the sky, at speed, Melting into the river of space.
Of whales gliding through oceans and rain saturating 
The soil, quenching its filamentous thirst.
Water into water.