Bright ... white ... light.
Overnight, an inch or two of snow fell on tiptoes as I was sleeping. How fortunate we are that snow makes no discernible sound: If it did, we'd probably be deaf and sleepless.
A blue-sky day as crispy and delightful as the peaks on whipped cream, as wondrous as a woman in a diaphanous gown ... making the mind somehow glad to be alive.
And I will have to watch my step on the way to the zendo this morning: Zazen may be bright, but there are slippery bits as well.
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