A Trickle of Inspiration

It was 7-degrees this morning when I left for work -- cold enough, but by now familiar territory for the mercury this winter.  The lake along the roadside is iced over, and so covered with snow that without the entrance sign announcing the true identity it could easily be mistaken for another whitened cornfield resisting urban sprawl.  Winter has been hard on us this year -- "us" being practically every living thing.  Deer have foraged in vain.  Eagles, according to farm reports, have resorted to carrying off piglets.  Fish are oxygen starved.  And the rest of us are simply worn out and cranky from all the shivering.

Driving on, I noticed something strange.  On the far side of the river that feeds the lake -- as if hugging the outer bank -- open water was moving.  It wasn't much -- a streaming ribbon perhaps 3-feet wide -- but nonetheless water rather than ice.  There is probably a simple explanation -- a power plant, perhaps, spilling off artificial warmth -- but the simple inspiration of it forestalled any further inquiry.  I slowed in the morning traffic, retaining the view as long as I could.

Promise. 
Life, opening up rather than closing down.
A trickle of inspiration.
And the tiny flow of it was just...
...enough.