Darkness Into Light #7 — After the Rain, Frost.

Overnight, the world becomes crunchy with ice. 

Dusk fell

and the cold came creeping,

Came prickling into our hearts.

As we tucked beaks

into feathers and settled for sleep,

our wings knew.

That night, we dreamed the journey:

ice-blue sky and the yodel of flight,

the sun's pale wafer,

the crisp drink of clouds.

We dreamed ourselves so far aloft

that the earth curved beneath us

and nothing sang but 

a whistling vee of light.

When we woke, we were covered with snow.

We rose in a billow of white.

(Joyce Sidman, Dream of the Tundra Swan)