It is 14 degrees Fahrenheit, and I am my own source of heat. .

In my black jacket bubble and dark hawkish leggings, I ooze and I seep a cavern of warmth, a contagion which catches my limbs and glistens off the moon.

The tip of my nose is ruddy and rosy and it doesn’t glow because of stagnation, quite the reserve: my nose is lit with the fire that circulates within me, propelled by my swinging arms, pumped by the bellows of my legs, by the pounding of my feet.

I dance and glide across cracks, across intersections, across potholes and alongside ballerina squirrels.

This is what they mean by sustainable living, I think. Forget the eco-friendly toilet paper and recycled laundry detergent.

This is what it means to be sustainable. Whereupon all I need is to be awake and swinging.

 

Peace and Blessings,

Josie

 

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