by Dane Fogdall
Snow falls like a baseline; heavy flakes punctuating the night sky in-between the street-lamps casting an incandescent melody as people walk in hurried time hoping to escape the cold. But not me, I know better. Icy air in the lungs is how to feel the warmth in your chest. Sharp contrast is required for focus, just as music is needed for a dance. And since I already have the music, I’ll waltz down the block with my drift-muffled step; wishing all the while for someone to dance with.
— from Juniper Volume 2, Issue 3