Love and then Death

What is it like to walk on in
knee-deep snow, in the teeth
of the wind, into the dark
and hungry wilderness?
It is not like being loved, I know,
although it is a
bit like loving.

Where is the arm breath of
the bear? Why sing not the birds?
The rabbit passed before me
and I am compelled to follow.

My boots fill with snow;
I take them off and
lay down. The sky is
soft. I have no fear.

Death is only the smallest thing.

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I love winter. well, I love all seasons. Winter is my chance to be slow and reflective, to be introverted, even to be sad--which I'm discovering is a very important part of being me. Winter is good for sitting alone inside and reading a book, or for walking alone outside and letting the world be what it is. True, the temperatures--especially when you live on top of a hill--can be a bit prohibitive, but (as my good friend Garrison Keillor would say) that builds character. It gives us something to talk about. I wouldn't want to live in Florida anyways, where you can always walk outside without your eyelashes freezing. I'd get bored.

We don't need each other anymore, and that's the saddest thing we've done--perhaps even sadder than the scourge of climate change, which is at least anonymous and impersonal.

--Bill Mickibben, quoted on Speaking of Faith