A dark, slender branch
elegantly dressed in snow
reaches for the sun.
A dark, slender branch
elegantly dressed in snow
reaches for the sun.
Blades of grass poke up
through dark ovals in quartets
deer tracks in the snow.
White, fluffy flakes dance
pirhouette in the soft wind
and fall to the earth.
Clear and round
Water droplets hang suspended
from bare branches.
I see the water droplets almost every morning now. My blog is subtitled “Trying to Find The Words.” That is the difficulty and the joy of writing. How do you convey in language the myriad images and feelings that come to mind when you see the world around you? How do you strip away the rich language of metaphor to get to the bones of experience? The water droplets reflect the waning light as the earth moves away from the sun. They mirror the colors of the dying leaves, crimson and brown. They are still and beautiful in the cold morning. They are full and empty. There is peace in dwelling upon them as the busy world whirls around them. Simple, stark, they will be gone as the sun climbs higher. Until tomorrow, when they will appear again.
Early morning
the dark sky holds a single pearl
the luminous moon.
Spider webs
sticky strands jeweling dew
catch the early light.
Drops of cold rain fall
gently on the fallen leaves
under the bare trees.