A moon almost full, clouds dance gently in its light obscuring its gaze. Mountain ranges in all directions, some blown bare, jagged tops reach for the sky, capped white. Snow, ice, cloud and black rock contrast the deep green of the river valley with its soft leaves attached seemingly tenderly to branches moving with the melody of the wind.

Landslides forever changing this world, sometimes daily, but never without consequence. Glaciers high up that hold both life and death in their ice. The sun warms a layer, it starts with a drip on its way to a torrent, that sets free a stampede that is harnessed by all to give and get life. Pipes plugged into waterfalls to channel away from natures path, they run to households, feed livestock, water the ground to produce and even wash the cars that happen by, all touched and tended by this glacier water from on high, channeled down by ancient routes carved out by man or nature with such force, yet it bringing its life force to all of this land.

This water ash grey with memory of the ages, it runs like the horses of the Camargue free with beauty, power and grace, never tamed, never tired this melted glacier gallops.

Until we meet again.