These snowy mornings are the first day of creation. All is born again from the beginning, fresh, in illo tempore.
Soft as the back of a newborn’s head, the sun emerges an effulgent bulge from the Armendaris. Sun rays bounce and glance betwixt the hills.
Our first footprints are placed slowly, gingerly around cacti and creosote sheathed in snow, animal tracks meandering.
Gliding, floating weightless, stirred inextricably in the sun rays, as Buddhas we leave no footprints, no trace.
We are there, soundless as owls, intangible as sun rays, ungraspable as the sparkle on the snow. A slender voice out of silence. Listen. We are there. Look for us.