The Bookish Kind: Cold Like Winter

Friday, January 28, 2011

Cold Like Winter

Death, cold like winter, Storms in swiftly,
Taking away the breath of the one it seeks.
Heartless and unforgiving,
Requiring surrender to the hard glacier ground.

The irony of death in winter is not lost, Even as white breath spills out,
Only to vanish, and then begin again. Reminding, that which drew breath, will again.

2 comments:

UmbratikusJanuary 31, 2011 at 9:44 AM
What is that print? I love the light.
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WebmasterJanuary 31, 2011 at 6:01 PM
The Magpie (La Pie), 1869 by Claude Monet
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Joy

I will never tire of the wind,
be it a cold winter blast
that takes me off guard
with it's bitterness,
or an exhilarating spring or
fall tempest that sweeps me away.
I get caught up in it every time,
...it's as if the wind is calling
my name to come out and play.
The trees become my cohorts,
...those gentle giants that sway
back and forth with delight,
as they gracefully bend to and
fro - they get caught up every time,
too, and are surely clapping their
hands in mirth.
In these moments, I am a
beautiful bird who was made for nothing more than ascending
to the heights where the currents await me. Joy.

For the beauty of the earth