In the woods,
All is silent but for the twinkling sounds of falling snow
Flakes descending, like crystals
They are bejeweled with angles that dazzle and delight, so delicate
Each one unique among millions.
And in the woods,
All is quiet but for the sound of my skis sliding across a clean slate of powder
Fresh tracks to follow, fresh tracks to create.
You can almost forget your worries upon waking as the day dawns,
and seeing the glimmering display of nature that makes the world seem new again.
A day as grey as
the clouds above it
And the hills, which have changed from green to orange to purple to a deepest blue in the fading light
with a few bursts of yellow from the beech trees, holding on in their marcescence
If life is full of the little things
like skating on smooth black ice and laughing with a friend
then I have nothing to look forward to
because there is good in every day.
Dear Mother,
I have missed you these past few months.
Where did you go?
I see you standing there, torch held high, yet you do not answer my calls.
Comments
This is the kind of winter we all daydream about in the summer, before we're in the midst of it. The kind without black-ice roads and a below-zero wind chill and gray slush everywhere -- just a quaint, peaceful, magical hush blanketing everything, snow twinkling in the sunlight. Today, you've reminded me to appreciate the beauty of the season.
Thanks you! I think we all needed a little positivity when it’s raining in January.
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