With a Wind Chill of -25

 As I write on this winter evening, wind whistles through cedars.

Inside it’s warm . . . quiet.  It cocoons me – a velvet blanket of peace.

‘Snuggle up’, it begs.  ‘Snuggle down’ my body says.

into feathers and flannel and darkness.

Time for Bear medicine.  Curl up in your den and breathe s l o w l y.

Unplug.  Turn off.  Let go of doing.

Dream.