Quiet Time

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Winter enfolding, with layers of peace descending,

in the silence of snowfall

we move beyond the rage,

ready now for our time

of quiet reflection.

    

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

The Wind Spirit

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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

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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

The Christmas Whisper

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She lay awake, next to him listening to him breathe. It was dawn now, and she didn’t want to disturb him, but she really did want to see if it was snowing yet. And it was Christmas now!

As she quietly peered through the window, and into the blue dawn, she saw the wind was up, and carrying the snow almost sideways. Would he like his gift? She sighed, and lay down again, touching his shoulder.

For some reason she needed to tell him how she felt, and she whispered to his sleeping ear, “Did you know you are the best thing that’s ever happened to me……?” She stared at his face, smiling.

He did hear the words, and he let them sink in deeply. It was the greatest thing anyone had ever said to him. He opened his eyes to her beaming smile.

She whispered again, “It’s snowing….”

 

Merry Christmas everyone!

   

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2015, 2018, ancient skies

Under the Blue Light of Winter

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Hidden away, in the stillness of the snow

under the blue light of winter

a set of eyes,

looking up

with a humble heart

releasing a prayer

and heaven,

as heaven often does,

begins to open

to listen

to the beautiful phrases

of Grandmother Squirrel.

I love when squirrels pray,

don’t you?

    

Note: Influenced by Native American stories.

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies