if the winter night sky and each other are all we’ve got then we will have to find a way for that to be enough.

in late winter or early spring between the cranes and the green the brown world warms and wakens. in a single morning, wheeling and crying, a hundred thousand sandhill cranes take to the sky, create their own north wind, and leave behind a warming breeze, and skies wrung silent. until the songbirds come. the eternal…