The silence of winter makes space for contemplation. This season of stillness, expectation, is also a time for solitude. Books, a low fire, the company of cats and dogs, the bare-boned limbs of trees outside, the possibilities of this ’empty’ season draw our minds to contemplate our lives and where we are ‘going’. I need this space, just to be still, to feel gratitude. There will be spring, with planting of gardens and the wonder of buds, but for now, this bare, washed palette outside, with its greys, blacks and duns comforts my eyes and mind. It is enough.
Lady Nyo
IN THE HOLLOW OF WINTER TWILIGHT
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In the hollow of winter twilight
The ground of the soul is darkened,
Silent, waiting,
A shallow breath will do.
.
Muted tints
Flood earth and sky,
Black bare-armed trees,
Skeleton-like,
Now softened in this sullen light,
To clothe with longing.
.
True winter has begun
This season of scarcity, silence,
Survival never assured,
The very thinness of air,
A sharp, searing bitter breath of air,
The inhaled pain alerts us to life.
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No excited cries of birds,
No rumble of young squirrels
Turning tree hollows into hide and seek,
Only faint tracks in the layered snow
Gives evidence of others around,
Small three-point, delicate prints
As if a creature bounded on tiptoe.
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There is little left to do
In this darkened ground of soul-time
But rest before the fire
And fill the hollow of the season
With hope, patience and desire.
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Jane Kohut-Bartels
Copyrighted, 2012