In the Starkness and the Darkness 

It’s time to celebrate winter in all of its many forms. 

This year I really saw it as a sort of living death. You sometimes feel you walk through apocalyptic zones but there is a certain beauty in austerity.    Every time I walked by this tree but one there was a single crow sitting on a branch. 

I think of the salt flats in Bolivia which I loved for their silence (if there weren’t three Frenchmen talking).

On a recent walk I found things pared down to the bare necessities. Sometimes it’s dim and grim but it makes you reflect on life. 

You will notice the hardy plants which are the last men standing  and take strength from these brave soldiers. 

There is always the water which can vary from water to ice or both. Sometimes it is nonexistent and other times it gushes after a heavy rain seeking its release. 

There will always be change and you can always find something good in any situation. Large flakes in your  face can be invigorating. 

On a recent walk on a cool and cloudy  prestorm morning I focused on sound in the calm before…

I heard some roofers hammering and one sang “Roxanne”.   

A man gave me a hearty “Good morning .”

I heard the pitty pats of runners numerous times with heavy breathing. 

There was the rubber to ashphalt sound of cyclists and no other warnings of their approach. 

Sounds of chickadees and other unknowns. Ducks flew close overhead flapping their wings in a race against the impending storm. 

The rest was frozen still. The strong yet silent ones finally got their due. They would survive another day. 


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