I see you. You have pulled down a slat on the window blind to see what you are missing. Maybe you just noticed that icicle. Or maybe you are looking for signs of the thaw. Blue skies, or a squirrel moving along the branches, a glimpse of the earth beneath the obfuscation of snow. Can you hear it? The muffled breath of the day, the softly beating heart of the earth patiently waiting for spring.
I am calling you. Play. Come play. Winter is nothing. Just the pause at the top of the inhalation. More night than death. Open the door. I am calling you.