“Give me the splendid, silent sun with all his beams full-dazzling.” Walt Whitman
Do you enjoy winter and its snowy days? Do you like the glint of the sun on ice? Or do you love to curl up near a fire and disappear into a book or write poems about a lost love?
Quiet Winter Days May Be Creative
I have to admit I am rather excited by snowy days when I don’t have to go out and can use the weather as an excuse to just read and nap while the winds whip around the house and spill branches into the yard. And yes, I build a fire in the fireplace and sometimes poems rise to the surface as I sit, not needing to do anything.
I lived in Nebraska for two years when I taught dance in the university and winter lasted most of the year. The first thirty days I was there in December and January the temperature was below zero. It wasn’t unusual to walk around in snow up to my knees.
On one of those days I wrote this poem. No doubt many of you can relate to this picture today.
Ice bends the trees of this arid land
So that woods appear like shrub forests,
Locked in a white crystal blanket.
The sun sparkles, shatters, plays
Off the hills like a melody of mirrors
Playing songs through the air.
The land flies by as we drive,
Like silver plates skipped on a stream.
Gray deer dart across our path,
Flying shapes connected to the land
By color and vibrance,
Alive in this frozen world
Where ice has stopped the flow of human life.
Only what is close to the land
Survives, vibrantly, through the ice.
Unlike most days in Nebraska, the sun has come out today and melted the icy streets in this North Carolina mountain town, but it has been a lovely contemplative day. I’ve been sifting through my poetry, deciding it is time to publish some and trying to decide where.
Winter, A Time To Turn Within
Winter is the perfect time to turn within and contemplate our lives and evaluate what is working and what is not. When spring arrives, we will be too distracted by the beauty it showers upon us to stay inside ourselves to do this work. But when the cold frosts the windows and makes the stairs treacherous, it feels safe to go inside, to do winter’s version of spring cleaning and decide how we want to change our lives during this year. So, I guess the decision I’ve made is to get busy sharing my poetry, make a book, get it published, and publish some poems on the internet.
Poetry Is A Very Personal Form
Poetry is so personal, and I feel nervous about putting it out there. Silly, isn’t it, when I’ve already published a memoir that is very personal. So today, I’ll share another poem which really is a silly poem I wrote as I imagined being a tree. We poets do things like that. Of course, maybe I was a Druid in another life.
Mountains hold up the snow,
While cedars talk of rumors
In the wind,
Shaking their heads as if to say:
“Mother Earth better watch out
For those wily hunters of fortune.”
Wishing all my readers a lovely warm day!
How do you like to spend a cold winter day? Is it a good time for you to turn inward? Please share and comment.
© 2015 Georganne Spruce ZQT4PQ5ZN7F5
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