Autumn and Winter argue daily here
Rain/sleet/snow
Now blue sky and sun
Warm afternoons and freezing nights
Rites of passage as seasons collide.
Turn and Turn About
Tag: poetry
Stone Cold
Got close and personal with the weather forecast last week
Hunkered down on the gravel road
Went eye-to-eye with winter.
Owed to Winter
Rosy cheeks
Runny nose
Chilly fingers
Frost-nipped toes.
Yup. Winter has launched a shot across autumn’s bow. The faint drizzle yesterday turned into several centimetres of the white stuff by morning.
North wind snow on corral
Snowy woods
Frozen puddle
But the temps will rise later this week and the panic to install snow tires, replace the weather stripping and buy new gloves will wane. After all, winter is months way.
Right?
Wild rose hip Rosa acicularis
Stand
Stand in stillness
Where the Old Ones live.
Amid their shadows
You may hear whispers of the ancient tongue
Echo softly in the air.
September 13, 2016
Sunset
Walk out on the fringe of nightfall
Where light and shadow meet
And muffled sounds drift on the cooling air.
Much is possible
When we step between worlds.
Acceptance
Schemes
Dreams
Plots
Plans
Of the many laid
Not all hatch.
Life doesn’t come with a guarantee.
The Lies That Bind
Virtual reality: an artificial environment created with software, presented in such a way that the user accepts it as real.
As digital tendrils tighten their grip
We retreat into a world of pixels,
Screen-glow and keystrokes.
We are poorer for it.
The virtual is only a mirror
No more real than reflections cast in water.
Where Is Your Nearest Tree?
Most of us
Most of the time
Live in a manufactured world.
We need to reconnect
With what we left behind
Or never knew at all.
To touch not plywood or two-by-four but living tree
Crush needles between fingers, inhale the pine-y perfume
Trace raindrops on an aspen leaf.
We need to rub urban skin over untamed bark
Sit against the trunk
Feel the wind sway us both.
Where is your nearest tree?
Go and say hello.
Aspen poplar Populus tremuloides
Eye to Eye
In a damaged world
Eroded by fear and hate
Life offers us moments of pure joy.
European skipper Thymelicus lineola
Choices
Life is not a straight line.
If you don’t like where you’re heading
Change direction.
White spruce Picea glauca
