The weight of winter
blankets the mountains,
burying dark caverns
and rivers beneath blue ice.
The silence of snow
while the giant sleeps,
the only sound the crack
of a breaking branch.
Down in the valley
coils of wood smoke,
the restless cars
and persistent rain.
The Earth weaves her spell
as the fat bear snoozes,
vole and marten peeking out
from their snow covered dens.
Vast clouds stretch across the ocean,
covering the land, inviting us
to enjoy the winter rest.
There’s wood to split,
the brightness of fir logs
as they shine with inner light
and the slow cooking soup
lifting marrow into stock.
I sit by the fire,
something cooking in me,
giving myself to darkness
as the blanket of snow
stores in root
for the season to come.
photo @50shadesofpnw
Your ode to a winters day is so evocative of what this cycle cultivates in our being.
Don, thank you for this beautiful piece, overflowing with the generosity of your gifts & the essences of Winter Rest in the Pacific NW. One of the gifts to me is to feel how the living world reveals its seamless glory on 02022020 in the Pacific or Atlantic SE or SW where the spread of Grandmother’s Blanket reveals entirely different but complementary essences of our Oneness & our Wholeness
I love your respect for the slow infilling of nourishment occurring under the crust of winter, a time for roots to receive in darkness. Oddly, I was briefly reminded of the parable of the young women with oil in their lamps, ready for the marriage feast when the call came. I like your version better!
Evocative and satisfying. Fire and slow-cooking soup are so primal, and “something cooking in me” is a great expansion of the image as we give ourselves to the darkness of gestation.
With you in the stillness of Now, I listen in witness ahead to What is silently settling into Its sublime manifestation …
A wonderful portent of things to come…we can be most thankful for these rhythms…….
You are such a gift to me and many others.