The Greeks considered Air to be hot and wet, but in winter, its bite can be brutal. A slicing intellect, a keen wit, the wind is a deadly opponent, blinding the unwary and sucking warmth from flesh and bone. Untempered by the other elements, it desiccates and embrittles until the barest breath shatters the victim.
But from the gale’s cold and deadly blade shines an unparalleled beauty. No sight is more clear than the sun shining through a winter’s dawn. No breath is as pure as the one that stings the nose and lungs, then rises steaming back into the clouds. Focus on breath. No act is so simple, and none is more difficult.
Hail Wind, Dawn Breath of Spring!
2 thoughts on “Gale Night”
For some reason, I always found walking around outside in winter and breathing in that cold air to be invigorating, especially during a snowstorm. (one of many things I miss about New England, sigh.) I think you really touched upon something here – the breath feels pure when it’s the cold air coming in and steaming the air going out.
Also, winter dawns are gorgeous.
Yes they are. 🙂