Views from the breakfast table

On a frigid, caramel gold, bright blue morning, there’s a rare murmuration of shorebirds racing first north, then south, along the river. The gold ornamentation on the castle in the near distance catches the fire of the rising sun. Above the tree tops, golden light splashes the pale underbelly of a slow, low-soaring osprey and lights up the brown wings of a swooping solitary hawk. These heart-lifting images must sustain the inner fires as snow is expected later and the wind is harsh. I find the cold enervating and sometimes I wish for feathery insulation but at the same time I have always felt that there is something  triumphant and human in the capacity to sense and feel temperature on, in and through the body.



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