We slip-glide the "Wildwood" on powder perfect trails.
Memories kaleidoscope and melt under the soft crunch rendering us but empty vessels to be filled with the present.
All the while a low wind drifts snow from dry reeds revealing touches of green with the hope and promise of spring.
At a clearing the sun paints gray from distant trees into a silver waving praise against the deep blue.
This shining network reaches for the universe seeming to release a simple message to echo on the wind.
This moment was meant to be.
It always was; and it is right and good.
And just for a moment in this strange suspension, we believe we know it all or at the very least we know enough.