Writing 201: Poetry: Landscape

Frigid Footprints Etched in Time

 

Time to reflect find meaning

Ready and gather strength for future seasons

Time to live in a present moment built on the past

To find bliss each day in just being

In feeling hoping loving

In gently holding to patience and faith

Touching natures surround unbound

 

Time is infinite change in an expanding universe

Like the lake surface blanketed in snow from transient storm

Change in flakes and crystals of water mixing moving gathering

Little twisters of white move in gusty gestations

Infinite equations of changing destination and motion

 

Eyes watery and face worn with lines of season old and the days’ cold

Manmade mirror of glass in shore side ice rink

Altered the blanket by pulling it back for gliding space

Tuck in the edges to border and shape

Sore eyes gaze in wonder from weathered countenance

 

Great Spirit of nature and all uses a whisk brush of gust

A vehicle of wind and a wispy medium of snow

To draw-paint a picture in the tenor of the season and flux of time

Transposing a lake shore rink into an ever changing etch a sketch image of life

Shaken by wintry blast infinite design is cast

The Winter Dance

The Winter Dance

We head out onto the snow-covered frozen lake with darkening skies on the horizon.

The golden retrievers excited at getting out for the daily nature excursion.

Northwest winds, cold and cloud do not dampen our enthusiasm as a change of weather, a collision of fronts low and high fascinate on a piece of the earth that we inhabit together and alone in our exploration.

Just as we reached the far shore the dark clouds opened, shearing winds broke free.

First snow then snow squalls in wind-blown gust engulfed us in a dancing natural whiteout of changing weather and temperature.

Turn to get the wind with us as we head back toward the warm shelter of home.

Stopped in awe at the beautiful and wild chaos moving all around Snow devils jumped up everywhere and moved to gusty rhythms in wild dances Spins swirls to and fro in small tornadoes of snow.

They existed as energetic torrents of wispy shades of white as alive as you and I. They lived a short time jumping up dancing and moving only to disappear in the distance.

Others seemed to see the fun and jump up to take their turn as dancing ghosts. Past snow lifts from the lake to grab a new snowy partner in a celebration of the cold and gusty winds that supply the music.

They move and fly across the floor as we make steps toward home. First steps in new snow Ghosts and Apparitions up from the Past appear to move to the Future as we walked among them in the Present.

Just another gift from the great spirit in the sky comes down to play on a mild calm to windy cold day.

The powerful winter dance felt and embraced fast and fleeting in duration yet Forever in spirit memory’

We bend at the waist bow down and thank you for the dance.

Breaking Trail as Seasons Change

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Yet another rain is coming tonight so I strapped (the old term), stepped into cross country skis as our golden ‘Mari’ picked out the ball of the day and we set out down lake. Conditions were good, slick not wet. We followed the first outlet which fills a small pond to and across a dirt road and into the woods on an old logging path. The path soon disappeared into new growth with an uneven obstacle filled journey ahead. The golden can go under and around small bush tree fallen log bramble and briar where the rabbits can go.
There is a feeling of freedom in leaving known path. I shift in zigzag moves looking for the (easiest), less difficult way forward. A sense of direction and fondness for a feeling of motion in emotion my guide.
The woods are silent but for our breathing, snap of breaking branch, crunch swish of skis traversing snow. Perfect circles of brown under the evergreen trees, a dry place to stop, gather thought and bearing, to feel the freedom in this live free or die state I am in. Fully alive, partially lost, physically strong and breaking trail in woods and wetlands seldom tread by man. A half hour in I find remnants of what was once a field property border, an old stone wall. Built boulder by rock by stone in clearing a field which is now reclaimed by the forest wood growth it was before man attempted to tame it.
The nature of this place laughs this day on my clumsy country crossing. Direction change from South to South West as the wall which appears to have cornered the field disappears with my tracks. Sense of direction and feeling for light penetrating clouds now carry me toward a grand wetland depression in forested hills. I know it as a continuation of the water flow from lake to pond to steam to trickles that drain to wetlands. Until today it was only a view from an old fire lane that traverses conservation land.
Find the filtered sunlight and search the distance for the open space beyond the wood. It is there wetland lives and when I find it I will follow North East from trail breaking toward broken trail I know.
A flash of white on a hill ahead and above me is followed by another as I focus. I halt and signal the golden to stay quiet for it is a family of deer on one of their familiar trails. We had seen tracks, rabbit deer perhaps moose but there is magic in the meeting! Our silence allowed them to move calm and free, our scent lost in light breeze.
We climb the hill and follow tracks to the SW end of the wetland. A break in the trees frames the view. Home to the deer, to me it is a dear moment in viewing. With no easy way down I remove the skis and use the pole straps to bundle them. Now hiking in 4 to 12″ of snow I can follow a more direct route. We move up and down hill to gully to hill, jumping across streamlets and slow and careful on the weak ice of pieces of wetland.
Joys in the movement, the sights, the feel, the physical cost paid back ten times in sore satisfaction. My mind map of the woods and wetland expanded. The view from the road is now a topographical memory of depth sound sight and feeling and on this day it feels like home.

The Touch of Winter

A paintbrush of white dusts the landscape in crystal celebration of the season.

A paintbrush of white dusts the landscape in crystal celebration of the season.

The Touch of winter
A Crystal water caress of snow
The sunny silence of a cold winter day shines in a new coat
Icy wind crystallizes dreams of warmth
A dusting that covers the ice surface
A country skating rink marks a spot where the shore kisses a hill
Near a lake inlet which drains from frosted wetland
A wondrous place in natural flux of seasonal changes
A sacred place where giant granite boulders hold sway against manmade hand and the storms of nature
Mark the passing of glaciers past
The tick of a wall clocks seconds break the silence
The only reminder that this perfect land at waters’ edge has been touched by human
Dreams of ownership
Nothing but a single frozen vaporous breath or a seconds tick
In this lands grand timelessness
Yet winters icy grip cannot stop a heartfelt spirit or dissipate
The crystal dream of touching the infinite

A winter blanket

A winter blanket

Winter blanket makes an XTerra a snow cave

Winter blanket makes an XTerra a snow cave

Frigid Footprints Etched in Time

Frigid Footprints Etched in Time

Time to reflect find meaning

Ready and gather strength for future seasons

Time to live in a present moment built on the past

To find bliss each day in just being

In feeling hoping loving

In gently holding to patience and faith

Touching natures surround unbound

Time is infinite change in an expanding universe

Like the lake surface blanketed in snow from transient storm

Change in flakes and crystals of water mixing moving gathering

Little twisters of white move in gusty gestations

Infinite equations of changing destination and motion

Eyes watery and face worn with lines of season old and the days cold

Manmade mirror of glass in shore side ice rink

Altered the blanket by pulling it back for gliding space

Tuck in the edges to border and shape

Sore eyes gaze in wonder from weathered countenance

Great spirit of nature and all uses a whisk brush of gust

A vehicle of wind and a wispy medium of snow

To draw-paint a picture in the tenor of the season and flux of time

Transposing a lake shore rink into an ever changing etch a sketch image of life

Shaken by wintry blast infinite design is cast

Snowshoes and Sorrow

January thaw of feelings and snow

Break a trail on a lake’s surface-Snowshoes in the heavy wet white

Hard going on the trail and in how today touches me

Weight bearing down on broken path and sore shoulders

Left alone again

Reach out and touch

Earth Water Wind and Fire

Natural surround beauty eases the burden

Sorrow comes by and I say

“Hello ol’ friend”

You always arrive when dreams are broken, love distant

Worked hard to reach this day

Felt it would be one of pure joy

We will celebrate it somehow, my ol’ friend sorrow and I

Will not wallow in pain nor invite despair to this party

We will make a path and search for the Warrior, “Iron John” Butterfly

Pushed away we push on, gather what we need

Move forward; find reward in the motion, in the work

Feel this day, sweat and experience

Tangents, torrents of torment

Be Damned

Sorrow I will hang with awhile but never join

We will be colleagues in feeling life’s travails

Know how human a man is by how alive

His emotion, nerve ends and beginnings feel, in motion

Knowledge gained in not giving up, in the path made

We have been here before and always move on

Sorrow, a steady sturdy soulful companion

I stood barefoot in the snow

Took a breath and let it go