Centering

Small, normal days

can be sweetest,

days when

you need little,

and you have it.

Deep breath.

Snowfall Overnight

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On the mountain in the morning it is white again

and we rise in grateful solitude and peace.

We remember what it feels like to be loved again

when the snow creates such beauty from the least.

Lichen Days

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In the stark softening of winter

in the fog and the weakening dormancy

the eye awakens to color

water lifting and falling with the light

our lichen days a slow arousal

equal to the world we are.

Belief in the Inevitable

Expand into spring by clicking.

   

Breathe in the fog with your boots in wet snow and be patient,

Seventy marks on the wall 'til the violets bloom.

You're still in the mist and the snow when you open your eyes,

But see how the seeds of the field have been scattered by wind,

Stay close to the surface and trust in the power of spring.

The Current in February

   

More than halfway through,

entering the Gulf Stream of winter

pulled along in the current toward spring,

easier to assess the woodpile now,

relishing the work of muscle and bone

when the wind calms in a stronger sun,

hearing the birds who sing it too,

more than halfway through.

Snowshoeing in the UT

   

No lifts, no lines, no fees,

no one to impress, no skis,

no parking lot, no mortgaged coat,

just open fields and ragged wool,

just hawthorne poles and room to roam,

unbroken drifts, unbroken thought, just home.

Alternating Realities

The road was opened in the dark

by the township's big machine

thunder on the frozen ground

ready for the next squall

 i moved in my bed

reentering the dream.

Company

 

Our star gilds us ridge to ridge,

our valley fills with night,

and back we roll into shadow.

You must forgive me

when i reach for your hand.

Rain on Snow

   

Those lives we've lived,

where are they now?

Those passions shared,

tell me they were real.

It's February here,

the weather's turned again,

fog grovels on the fields.

I won't forget,

You don't know what I feel.

Unknowing

    

The last of January

the unbroken drifts in the fields against the trees

the long shadows where do they end

when the horizon bisects the sun

do they cling for awhile to the curve of the earth

do fly straight off into space

is that what space is endless shadow

shade overlapping shade crosshatched and interwoven

from the shadows of the planets of a trillion suns oh

our imaginations are limited and our minds are weak

it's all we can do to think are there even other trees

let alone of the answers to the you and the me?