COMPENSATION FOR THE COLD...

Three a.m this January morning...

Brightness drew me to the windows on the west side of my house.

The glow of moonlight on the ice-bound creek gleamed back at me like polished silver, and moonlight traced itself along the snow-glazed trunks of trees.

At the roof edge of my house, icicles grown tall from weeks of unrelenting cold were filled with moonlight; they shone into my eyes like crystal chandeliers.

The cold night had its compensations; I didn't curse it.

Three degrees and growing colder...