The cold does not frighten me, for I see the frost as a jeweler’s touch that sets the world in crystal light. Yesterday the air turned sharp and sweet, pulling me from my wool blanket toward the open slope where the sun still warmed the stones. I watched a butterfly freeze its wings on a gentian flower, then watch it thaw and take flight again when the shadow passed. This is not death but a deep breathing of the earth, a pause that makes every green leaf sing louder than in summer’s long heat.

I ask you to drop your heavy thoughts of town life and come stand where the wind blows clean from the peaks. Do not count the hours or worry about coming back; instead, trace the line of a glacier with your eye until it seems to touch your own heart. Let the silence fill your ears so that you may hear how every stone and cloud knows exactly what it is doing.