“Do you hear the snow against the window panes, kitty? How nice and soft it sounds! Just as if someone was kissing the window all over outside. I wonder if the snow loves the trees and fields, that it kisses them so gently?”
~ Alice { Chapter 1, Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass }
January
January has the calloused hands of a gardener and pulls the greenest out of me. The sky is a new colt on legs so slender they buckle still. If the sun rolled back like an eye, it would see the mind of God. If my own mind circled nearer to the things of this world, it could see that in Winter too, there is Spring—like a song in the throat of a bird before taking wing from the cage of sleep.
