Indulge in snowy madness with white crystals falling,
Head raised, hexoganal treats on the tongue,
Melting quickly, liquid memories fading,
Isolated and fantastic pleasure found in each flake,
The trail shows a vast wasteland of missed opportunities,
Each one not caught collects on the cold earth,
Desolate and not forgiving, forever lost in the blowing wind,
The memories gather in peace, with each fallen flake,
Consoling each other, as one.
Sitting in my house watching the snow fall makes me wish for winters quick exit and an even quicker arrival of spring. At the time of this posting we are one foot into possibly two feet of snow!
Here in the northeast of the US we are about to get slammed by a Nor’easter this Tuesday and Wednesday. Here is a short piece of rhyming poetry to usher it in:
In a couple of days time a nor’easter will blow,
The weatherman is telling a tale of woe.
The wind will be whipping and a cold snow will be falling,
The cruel hand of Boreas soon will be calling.
And as much as I love the soft fluffy white,
Two feet of snow is more of a blight.
So as I sit and ponder the storm,
The coming of spring can’t be the norm,
But the new season will soon be here, that much is true,
A bright crisp green landscape and fresh air anew.
So look out your window and enjoy winters last breath,
As we move hand in hand celebrating its death.
I’ve written and photographed to two ninety ninety nine,
I’m at the cusp of three hundred on this fun blog of mine.
As I hike and I walk and take pictures galore,
Do I have the stamina for three hundred more?
As long as I breathe and can take a long hike,
It’s my poems and my pictures I hope you’ll still like.
(I read this to my son and he said “You sound like a hippy Dr. Seuss.”)
“I think snow is so evocative and has such a powerful atmosphere.”
-Kate Bush
“A snow day literally and figuratively falls from the sky, unbidden, and seems like a thing of wonder.”
-Susan Orlean
“Each solstice is a domain of experience unto itself. At the Summer Solstice, all is green and growing, potential coming into being, the miracle of manifestation painted large on the canvas of awareness. At the Winter Solstice, the wind is cold, trees are bare and all lies in stillness beneath blankets of snow.”
-Gary Zukav
The crow on the branch, a sidewards glance,
Each winters morning, a hypnotic trance.
With a backdrop of grey, wind whipping each tree,
Each furtive glimpse, tranquility….
As I sit at work and think of spring,
The warmer days and the hikes it will bring,
I dream of the trail and not of the cold,
Leaves on the trees, a scene to behold,
I know that day will be here, no time to lament,
Of harsh winter nights, awaitng springs soft sweet scent.
“Tombstones covered the dale, the smooth marble surfaces bright. She had spent days here as a teenager, though not out of any awareness of mortality. Like every adolescent, she intended to live forever.”
-Thomm Quackenbush
“Live life with grace, there is no return from the grave.”
― Lailah Gifty Akita
I had some time again before my daughters hcokey game so I ventured across the steet to this small cemetery and took these pictures.
The Zen Hiker 