drift to earth,
“In this moment
Freshly fallen snow captures your footprints, first left than right toward the yellow glowing coffee shop windows outlined in translucent iced frosting. The expansive silence broken only by muffled squeaking falling off your knobby boots and then hand on door you enter to chatter rising from small islands of conversation.
As you sit at a corner table you realize nobody looked up when you entered, nobody watched you place then pickup your simple cup of coffee and walk the interminable steps to this little table you’re now at. Nobody watched.
In this moment with nobody looking coffee warmth.
Winter’s darkness caught me by surprise this year. I had few thoughts of the dimming light till a few days before Christmas when out of the corner of my eye I saw flickering lights.
The lights turned out to be a tug of war between Winter with all it meaning and the sputtering gasp of Fall letting go of its last colors. The Solstice risen up like a monks gray hood enveloping and erasing everything before it, leaving only barren dark cold plains for out memories to dwell upon.
Flickering lights signaling a brief pause before the emotional rolling in of Winter and it’s bride, heralding the taking up a long extended residence not only outside out homes but inside our souls as well.
Flickering lights reminding us of the never ending turning of the wheel. The wheel turning season unto season breath unto breath creating everything while simultaneously destroying everything. The wheel that never stop unfolding moment unto moment vibrating energy into and then out of form out of reach out of memory. The wheel that is both fear and hope colliding and merging built with the impermanence that is change.
Walking newly plowed roads, bright sun on my back, sprawling fields surrounding me stretching toward muffled hills deeply covered in new snow. Quiet, but for the meditative packing of my boots. I Jump onto a stonewall and stop.
The fresh snow has yet to be marked by sleds, by saucers. The cold air yet pierced by the coming of voices. Quiet snow muffles my thoughts encases my heartbeat as I stand and watch moment upon moment folding and unfolding before me.
Quiet snow stopping time like a hand gently brushing a cheek. Quiet snow laying flat like a picture postcard.