Swirling in the Snow and the Wind

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Sometimes barely a thread connects my spirit to wordflow

and yet I find my voice surprising me

in a snow covered forest,

as if the wind was whispering

my name, and somehow knew me

more than I ever thought possible.

And so I write these few lines

hoping and praying

that a poem lives within.

Listen……do you hear your own whispers?

they’re swirling in the snow

and the wind.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2020, ancient skies

Snow Clouds

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As I watch from my window, snow clouds drift in over the mountains, and I think of the ridge filled with pine trees,

and the boulder where I sat and prayed last summer, and that time when she still had cancer, and we held hands looking over the valley.

And I know now, it’s always about looking forward, refusing the scars or being controlled by them.

It’s all about hope and peace falling over us, like snow gently falling from snow clouds…….over the top of the mountain.

        

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

The Sense of Quiet

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Somehow in the snow, there’s a flow within us, as if the silence covers over the noise of this world,

releasing our inner person to finally feel our mystical bond with the created Earth, with the spirit we’ve all been given.

In the quietness, actually snow does make a sound, if you listen very carefully,

but the sense of quiet holds a unique peace like nothing else, that touches us deeply. Oneness.

Perhaps that is the most amazing thing about snow……

we truly sense the wholeness of who we are, and how…..we fit into this world.

      

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

Note: We’ve had very little snow but it has been grey for weeks, and cold.

The Earth Would Bring Healing

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She squinted through the snowfall, her determination burning once again, in spite of the howling wind.

She had followed the wings of the hawk, and now….was that a cave? They had been led here for sure….”C’mon my love!” she yelled to him, who struggled with each step.

He had saved her so many times, now it was her turn. They knew this was not the time for dying.

Once they collapsed inside the cave, they found it warm and safe. They had survived the ruination, the last of all wars, led by the spirit hawk, surely it was a sign.

The Earth would bring healing. There would be a spring, and hope…..was about to be born.

From the Apocalyptic Journal.

     

Writing and Image © Copyright 2019, ancient skies

As Chipmunks Burrow a Little Deeper

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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