Thursday, December 17, 2015

Fire On The Horizon

"When you're walking in the woods, in the dead of frozen winter, and you can hear your heart beat in your head?" she said, tilting her face towards him.

"That's your heart telling your body it's not frozen yet. Even if an entire creek looks solid, there may be a tiny trickle of water in the bottom, still rushing by. Still wearing away at the ice holding all the fallen leaves in place."

"Farmers often burn waste materials in the winter. The grounds frozen so it's harder for the fire to spread. But I think there's another reason. They're reminding the earth that it's not frozen yet. They're reminding it, that as long as there are fires on the horizon, as long as there is a pounding rush of blood in your ears, we're not solid yet. We're still fluid. We have to keep things moving. Crack out of the brittle icy layer that holds us stationary."

"We're not frozen yet."


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