The small creek gently rolls beneath the empty canopy through an alabaster landscape. Most of the songbirds that are here year round are cuddled together in well hidden nests to fend off the harsh icy bite of winter. Somewhere in the sky above the snow covered limbs a crow gives three quick caws. This was an alarm call to the rest of nature that a human being is within their domain. I thought that I spotted him on one of the gently arching branches but I wasn’t sure. I began to gaze upstream through the snowy scene and in my mind’s eye I saw a native lady in her canoe gently drifting my direction. She has a load of sassafras roots for teas. There’s something warming about a good sassafras tea. It’s like coziness in a cup. In this winter’s daydream I’m but a observer. An invisible spirit in the icy mists. She passes by without a glance my direction but I can smell the sweet spicy roots in her boat. The steady rhythm of her paddle sweeping the water is hypnotic and I’m drawn into the movements. I can see the grain of the wet wood and hear the soft trickle of water was it drips from the paddle’s blade. She continues on downstream until the craft vanishes into the backdrop as if it closed behind her. I imagine that her people met her on the bank of the creek and escorted her to a warm fire, a hot meal and the love of a family. We should all have such a homecoming on a cold winter day.
Good night friends and be blessed throughout your days.
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