Winter Still Speaks

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It was in the winter when I first began walking,

seeking the journey of a quiet spirit,

the healing of silence in the woods,

the wholeness of a snowfall

in the purity of cold air.

And still today

the wisdom of a young man’s heart

can defend, provide a light

for this old guy to follow.

Winter still speaks.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

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The Roar and Rage of Winter

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He squinted his eyes against another attack by the icy wind. The snow tore sideways now, containing small chips of sleet, he shrunk his neck even further down into his parka,

with one hand holding onto his hat. He was tired of this roar and rage of winter, the daily fight with the wind.

But he was a tough ole guy and on this day he leaned in, lifting up a prayer, thankful that he had a job to go to,

which meant they both had the medical coverage they needed so desperately.

No ugly wind would ever take his wife. He was a tough ole guy still fighting, the roar and rage

of winter.

 

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies