As the winter, on his retreat, carries on to bless us with puddles and a wish for warm blankets and tea, I am sorting my kitchen and my notebooks, which both reveal an unsuspected provision of goodies.
Here are a few lines I found from January this year.
A note on gratitude and longing perhaps.
.................................................................................................
Silence radiates from the core
like a queen
resting on a mount of moss
encircled by the stern march of ants
and bright green bows of birches
nodding to Her Majesty
The breath of solitude plays this ancient instrument
in my chest and for a moment I remember
Home is where we hear our
questions grow into beautiful songs
when dawn rises their many voices
and we join in, albeit we were told
we could not sing