Christmas Day.
Today is Christmas.
The sky is a brilliant blue. The tops of the pine trees lay golden against the sky and the wind sings in the tree tops. The percussion of melting snow insistently punctuates the distant laughter of children sledding with their new gifts.
The air is clean, moist and sweet.
Wispy clouds dust the horizon in light shades of mulberry and the rolling hills glow in streaks of rust and blue.
It's so quiet and clean.
I need for nothing walking on the dirt road and no matter which way I turn, the light is amazing.
I feel my thoughts move inside like wet hands in a warm mitten.
Everywhere I go here, it feels like home.
I simply cannot imagine how to fly west, now.
The sky is a brilliant blue. The tops of the pine trees lay golden against the sky and the wind sings in the tree tops. The percussion of melting snow insistently punctuates the distant laughter of children sledding with their new gifts.
The air is clean, moist and sweet.
Wispy clouds dust the horizon in light shades of mulberry and the rolling hills glow in streaks of rust and blue.
It's so quiet and clean.
I need for nothing walking on the dirt road and no matter which way I turn, the light is amazing.
I feel my thoughts move inside like wet hands in a warm mitten.
Everywhere I go here, it feels like home.
I simply cannot imagine how to fly west, now.
Comments
Tonight is my last night here in Vermont. And, truly, I'm hearbroken.
I just can't even begin to explain how hard it is for me to leave tomorrow.
Thanks for your kind words.
now, i can't remember new orleans...
nicely done... great visuals.
Thomas Woolf was right. You can never go home again. Benjamin Button reminded me that, this, too, can be okay.