Winter Writings: Day 88

Right now, after weeks of seemingly non-stop rain, I dream of sun. Of heat radiating through my old bones and soaking through my skin. Languid heat wrapped around my body like a well-worn blanket that envelops me in a sound sleep I don't want to wake from. Golden light reflecting off the last of the raindrops hanging from spring buds, making you reach for sunglasses and sunscreen and dream of dancing along the forest trails in celebration of spring.

And right there with dreams of sun, are longings for the wild lands and waterfalls of the local trails that are still covered in mud and snow. Of water flowing freely from the glaciers above and finding its way through secret paths down the mountain, to the mighty river and on to join the roaring waves of the Pacific. Of volcanoes and valleys and warm beach sand between my toes. Oh the places I'd explore and the photographs I would take if only I could have a little sun.

Each day the birds in my backyard grow more joyous in their song. I can only hope they are singing the sun home to me to free me from this winter prison.