Winter Heartbeat By Dawn Schrieber Even in the dead of winter itâ€™s there. You can hear it if you stop walking, stop compacting the snow beneath your heavy boots. That satisfying crunch. When you stop you can hear the silence of wind holding its breath. Snow snuggled into the trees and along the frozen ground. But if you listen you can hear the water rushing beneath the ice. Muted. Far away. And you realize there is no trail here in the summer, for there is a river beneath your feet. Below layers of tightly packed snow, under a bridge of ice, the river runs crashing into river monuments, stones, as large as slumbering bears. It thrums, reverberations felt in your legs. Muted rushing, you can hear it echoing off the walls of an icy cavern. Lub dub, lub dub, lub dub, it rushes down the mountain.
Halcyon - Winter 2013