Large chunks of ice would break free from the edge of the San Juan river and float down stream with the lazy current.
Steam rolls like a gentle wave across the land, on a never ending repeat cycle.
The edge of the hot pools are covered in frost in the early morning light, so cold that one only wants to have your head exposed.
The natural hot springs of Pagosa at six a.m. invigorate this old and dying body.
The constant sound of bubbling water and dripping rain drops fill deaf ears with soothing melodies. I let a cascade of natural minerals coarse dry skin and tired muscles.
I feel baptized and renewed, if only for a short spell.

Wench, bring my ale, what say you?

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