She whispers my name... Only I can hear

Friday, February 01, 2008

To each his own

It’s snowing
Co workers that do go outside – do so to smoke
But there is no life in a cigarette

A safe warm comfort zone provides a decent environment in which to work
But there are times I need to forget about that, and remember why it is good to be alive

So I go outside, but not to smoke
I go outside to feel the cold
My skin tingles as it tightens

Snowflakes, big as a child’s hands, cling to my face, and shoulders
Each one unique, beautiful yet temporary
As am I
The wind dances in my hair, whispers in my ear
Old Red Tail, the hawk shakes himself and rises from a nearby limb
The soft sound of his feathered wings floats down to me as he turns and merges into the mosaic of limbs and brown oak leaves
He is ancient, wild and free
A mere 20 yards from where I sit and deal with the pitfalls of technology
And it is good