Months seem to melt into eternity as the frozen sleep treads on. Others sing the joys of crystalline beauty and the thrill of the slopes. I see a landscape of suspension and death. Bare trees reach out and cut the empty heavens like woody lightening, dilapidated empty nests swaying vulnerably in the wind. Mornings meet me with the silence of the grave. Even the streams fall silent.

All that is changing now. The earth stirs in her sleep and begins to waken. Recently I ventured into depths of a forest, my virgin voyage of the season. Almost immediately the crisp air rejuvenated my body. The birds were singing their first hesitant songs, and the delicate rustle of leaves alerted me to furry companions busily bustling about. The trees softly moan in delight as they gently swayed in the warming air, and the brook has resumed her delicate trill.

I felt my chest tighten with excitement at these signs of revival. Soon.

Soon the smell of moss will perfume the air.

In a matter of weeks the forests will blossom into full glory. The paradise I yearn for will thrive, rewarding my explorations with breathtaking picturesque visages stretching into eternity. From up there, the world is void of smoke stacks and condominiums.

Enveloped by the living silence, my soul hears the ancient mystical rhythmic rhyme of life. The earth vibrates with the hymn of creation. The whispering wind dances through the canopy and finds me, caressing my body with a touch softer than any lover. This is my temple, this is where I find God.