poetry, fiction, nature, culture, compassion, love
Sleepily, before the morning dawn, mist begins the rain.
As I listen in the dark, ice crystals descend here
and there on the roof. Pitter patter,
then, in an opening of the heavens
the snow is washed disappearing,
a silent reminder
of the promise of spring
living in more than
our distant dreams,
as I pull up the covers enfolded
and fall back to sleep.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
As the winter storm roared through the trees, thunder rumbled rolling
through the valley, having been sent down the side of the mountain,
and I realized our spirits are so fragile, we often sense
the loneliness of the wind, with snowflakes swirling,
and yet inside our cocoons, we acknowledge the safety
and that God was never angry, even though
He probably does live in the wind
coming down
from the mountains.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
A shifting drift on the mountain ridge maneuvers
as a fresh layer of frozen white settles into the Earth.
The bluest of blue skies seems to hold in the coldness,
as chipmunks burrow
a little deeper, to escape the cold
and the watchful eyes of the hawk perched high
in the pine trees.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
When snowflakes start us dreaming,
with a softness descending
there is usually peace enfolding
before the end
of the storm.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
As the sun sets, after the storm
something similar to hope
can be born,
a tangible presence
in the winter sky.
Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies
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
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
