On Nebraska’s rural highways and city streets, ice forces us to slow down. Ice stills what is frail and what is forged – it freezes the wildflower and the tractor. Ice quiets the drumbeat of waterfalls and the lapping of lakes.
It softens the barbs of fences and the prick of pine needles. Sun streaming through ice invites us to celebrate the magnification of light. We know it won’t last long. In winter, the night is always close by. We choose each step on the ice. We comfort ourselves that someone might catch us if we fall. We take time to look for the light. We take time to wonder.