Float my soul as wind does blow;
A field of drifting snow.
Long grass will tickle my fleeting heart,
Field posts as my deep breath.
My wisdom is an open sea
Torrenting above this frozen ground,
Truth for which I’m steady holds
Dirt which refuses me
The steady pull of gravity.
And in this I shall forever find
Patience of the naked deciduous,
A lark, yet steadfast cold.
Tag: snow
The Purr of Gaia (day 1672)
Dear George,
The letters from Salem finally arrived today. I had been preparing for them all week – harvesting a few varieties of toadstools in the forest around the area.
Bonhomie fills my heart this time of season. I wear my warm clothes and delight in an extra cup of coffee most days. Are you still exploring your art of the bean? I have started to use a scale to measure proportions for my perfect cup of coffee.
As I read through the hand written letters, the snow started falling here. Big large flakes that have started to stay on the ground, lazily floating there chaotically.
I love this time of year. The browns are so dominant, lacking most any signs of the lush green foliage of summer’s heat. It soothes the black heart inside of me, calling out to me slowly as I imagine the sweet embracing, icy fingers of Gaia as she slowly settles into fetal position – eyes flickering slowly – for a calm rest. Much like the feline.
I saved a feline from certain death two weeks ago. It had come pawing at my door after I fed it one lonely night. I had seen it fishing in garbage cans for luck earlier that week. We tracked down the owner who said it was left behind during a move half way across the country.
Can you imagine the absurdity of that? Moving half way across the country and leaving without your cat?
It’s a beautiful cat with the fullest of coats and a purr that shakes the icicles from sweet Gaia grip as she slowly settles into my black heart.
I look forward to hearing from you soon. The lovely sketch that accompanied your last letter was so enchanting. I’ve had it sitting on my windowsill since you sent it.
Much love,
Lizarious
Wreaths (day 1665)
I am a miracle
And I cannot step outside.
I’ve corrected the long lines
Falling over my wreaths,
Hallowed and routed
And cornered
And fed yule-tide with eggnog.
So there’s that.
I’ve forgotten about snow.
Snowy Day Turned Warm (day 1631)
3D crystal nodes
Quietness
Slipping drip
My Land | Chapter XII (day 1179)
I could feel John-bo getting nervous with so many wolves around so I dismounted and carried on by foot. He was a good horse and would come when I needed him.
Because of my up-wind advantage I was able to get quite close to the pack. I counted nine of them, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to get more than four before they dispersed.
I could make out the two alphas I had come to know. They were restless and stood back a way as the others seemingly oblivious to anything around them lazed in the afternoon blood sun.
I noticed neither one of them had feasted. Neither had blood on them.
I knew these two.
The previous fall I had had a run-in with the two while out checking my lines. It was a cold winter day and I had my head down as I plowed snow. A fresh layer lay on my path. My snow shoes helped. The black one with the white stripe between it’s eyes had been watching me for quite some time before I realized it, I guessed. I wasn’t sure whether it was wanting to become my friend or whether it knew about as much as I did about what to do.
At any rate, there it was about 20 meters to the North along the edge of a copse of birch trees. As soon as I raised my long barrel it disappeared. No more than 15 minutes later as I was coming around a large Fir tree it was right in the middle of my path waiting for me. As we both stood there motionless in the cold winter air, our breaths floating away like our whispering spirits, I saw the white one with the black nose tracing the path the white striped one had taken.
There was no shock. No cause for alarm. They weren’t growling at me, bearing all their fangs to scare. They were just watching me, like they might do to as their cubs played in the fresh earth.
[note: to read the full epic track my land]
Dog Walkers (day 918)
I sit here from my porch in snow
Watching strangers pass and go:
In front usually bounds an excited dog,
Master then ordering, stumbling in fog.
Accepting this as natural flow
Hoar Frost (day 615)
White tips
Visible breath
Crunchy snow
Winter Tree (day 595)
Deep Green
Cold white snow
Strong scent
Winter Wanderer Enthusiast of Cold Sports (day 594)
Deep within
The Christmas Bowls
A forest-scape awaits the searcher
White trees that bend
From the weight
Of two months
Windswept
Hard blown
Snow
Wind drifts
And little kickers
That come out of corners and grow
Are like playgrounds
For the winter wanderer
Enthusiast of
Cold sports
Warm mittens
Boards
Snowboarder (day 584)
Wind swept pillows molded by a scimitar
Catch a winter surfer eye as if shining like a star
Who, in all his layers, bundled for the fun
Sways this way and that, then carves on away
Bending at the knees, turning from his hips
Launching off cliffs, he soars through the air
A smile cheek to cheek, a scarf warming that
Snow flying everywhere; the markings of a trail
This tells all of a snowboarder’s decent