Gentle and just pleasure
It is, being human, to have won from space
This unchill, habitable interior
Which mirrors quietly the light
Of the snow, and the new year.
Margaret Avison --
New Year's Poem
Icy winds today, whipping scraps of paper so high up in the air I thought they were birds. There's no doubt that one of the great pleasures of winter weather is being inside, away from it, and I am reveling in the quiet warmth of a day when blessedly little happened.
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