Long walks in the frigid air passing through my ears as G-d's whispers, penetrating through winter scarves curled around my neck and head like a prayer shawl, an athlete's towel over his head as he is lifting weights, concentrating on muscle building but in privacy. Winds picking up and blowing the scarf, iciness on my neck, coolness, mistiness from the cold waters circulating around my head.
Walking further and further and getting a charge like a bull charging forward as my legs lift me over mounds of beach sand, moist and packed down, fitting into the curvature of my feet, digging down deep with my heels poking into the sands firmly with each step.
Further burying rocks and seashells into the sands, cracking them under my weight, listening to snap crackle and pop as I dance away from the waves so they do not wet me.
Holding a cape from a bull fight to each wave, and each wave comes in but misses me, keeping dry with water everywhere, all around me, vapors of hydration into my lungs as I take deep breaths, and blowing it out rhythmically as I step to my own music again and again.
Chanukah in my memory, still in my steps, still dancing with Miriam to timbrels the whole night long.
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