February on the coast of Maine.

Snow and more snow, lovely blanket across the land, frigid cold, old cars groan and doors stick shut, ground moans under foot, roads heave, ice forms sheets across the harbor, glistening, as further out in the bay the sea smoke rises and hovers.  I force myself to walk the road, in all weather, the neighboring estate's field of summer grass gone under the cascade of thigh high trackless snow.  Other tracks, car, dog, me walking, rabbit and fox, and I wonder where the deer are, waiting in some deep forested place or the seals, roaming their icy underwater world, gathering in what they can.  We walk about, and go on with our jobs, our sense of duty, and try hard to give our love to those around us..we struggle with giving when the dark beckons us to curl tight, hold fast.
February sun finds its way into the house..it is a trail, a road, a bed, a song.  It is warmth, earth's shining partner.