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cloud movementRain. Sleet. Ice. Snow.  Winter battles its way in, vying for frozen air even as small pockets of warmth swing in, teetering the thermometer down and up and down again, where eventually it will rest for the long stretch of the cold months.

The clouds color our days slate and slow the sunrise.  Each day we turn closer to solstice, darker and darker as we go, almost forgetting the calm blue sky brimming with light.  It happens then, just as we forget, that sun-laced wisps rise up from the hills and the winds push north and we stand, staring out at it all as our own breath rises like the clouds and for one moment we are empty, speechless, willing.

I wonder, what would the world be like, if we could always remember the clear expanse beyond the clouds.  What would the world be like if we lived from these open moments?