Cabin Fever


You can only linger on a day that is minute long.

The air re-invents itself as, solid, insurmountable defeats.

And, wisdom of a mile transforms to glued retreat.

It is nothing but cabin fever…at the foot of a rural seat.

 

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In good health, the air is cordial of incredible virtue.  Crossing a bare common, in snow puddles, at twilight, under a clouded sky, without having in my thoughts any occurrence of special good fortune, I have enjoyed a perfect exhilaration.  I am glad to the brink of fear.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

 

 

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