Winter’s Art


What value we ignore,
these short days,
air filled with crystalline arrest
bestowing remembrance of colors in respite
while we engage anew our will to embrace the resistance,
the invitation to accept.

Winter ushers us through Nature’s galleries,
where bows of pine and oak wood
curl their needle and leaf
seeking sleep’s protection,
while creation’s ever-changing canvases,
nature's ancestral intransigence,
prepares yet another gallery of naked magic.

The space of emptiness soon fills
with Time’s protective attachment of woven crystals,
bare branches receiving Winter’s seasonal brush strokes,
finding purchase onto Nature’s hibernation,
a frosted cover for now,
life’s resurrection come spring.

How wise…

Season’s four-tier exhibitions,
void of competing position,
a constant reminder of how little
man-made comfort we require,
such material pleasures so covetously horded,
eventually of lost interest.

Fortunately…

Winter’s residue of crystalline sculptures
will survive amidst our huddled awareness,
allowing experience into creation’s innate connection,
that place where all that is, all that was,
knows well the cyclic rewards of patience.

And so…

The organic world’s singularity remains
so ever-near for many,
a winter's cold away for others.