Winter Still Speaks

20180204_121727

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

Advertisements

Evergreens

Blue Pine with Snow

Evergreens, standing tall in the blue twilight

of the winter sky,

centurians of fir, spruce and pine trees 

lingering in a scent of Christmas

guarding, watching over

the silence

of the snow covered forest.

     

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Roar and Rage of Winter

20181115_103657

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

The Wind Spirit

20181115_103440

Back in the day, when the Lakota still carried power in their feathers they would call on the Wind Spirit to protect them from the sharp eyes of their enemies.

The Wind Spirit would howl, blowing in a ferocious storm so that not even the hawks could see the lodges of the people, barely seeing the pine trees through the snow.

And the Wind Spirit continued to howl until all fear was gone having been breathed through, the nostrils of the Lakota ponies.

 

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019 ancient skies

The Stillness of Trees

100_5679

A closer walk within the wind, discovering the pre-dawn of winter

where prayers guide us through

the stillness of trees

gifting our spirits

with a sense of quiet,

a stronger muscle,

and lungs unafraid to breathe

through all our questions.

It is winter

and our boldness will see us through.

    

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies