On the land and for a time has come a dusting of snow and freezing cold. Winter sun scratches at the horizon in low light - late to come, early to leave. I plod about the house and yard to find the things that must be done - daily chores and mundane tasks, this to fix and that for later leave. The end of the year, beginning of waiting for daffodils and first leaves. But what I will miss if only for these I wait while all around burgeoning life seethes? Inside even my old self as upon the muddy ground does come some new stirring that, if I sleep too long, will likely be gone before spring awakes. ______________________________________________________________ Portland, Oregon - December 27, 2021
Month: December 2021
Solstice Day
In just a while I have to go Into the rain and cheerless cold And leave this warmth that comforts me Before the coming of the snow. For just another moment more, Until I do another chore, I'll watch the rain as it comes down, I'll wait beside the open door. No one can say what's there for me Beyond the hills, beyond the sea. So close to home I'll stay today Where I may love and I may Be. And on this dreary solstice day Into the world so dark, so gray I'll go, but just one minute more Before I'm off and on my way! ________________________________________________ Portland, Oregon - December 21, 2021. This poem is my attempt to mimic Robert Frost's perfect, "Stopping By Woods on a Snowy Evening." No one can match the brilliance of his work, but it was fun to try given the parameters he set for his piece. It's a challenge because I'm not used to sticking to a strict style in terms of rhyming patterns and syllabic rhythms.
Christmas Moons
On this chill night in mid-December a waxing one-third moon, the Cold Long Night moon - shows itself in pieces through the red cedar stiff branches, tall and evergreen. She is a sign on this dark and clear night, harbinger of chill in silver and white. In pieces yet whole, as we, broken bright. She has moved silent and slow over ice and brilliant snows of dark Decembers. She hung three-quarters full on the boughs of heaven when first I heard the silver bells and saw tinsel stars above, adorning and adoring. Myself? A babe with cries imploring! At twenty years of Christmases my Cold Long Night moon was nowhere to be found. She was a new moon, no moon wandering unseen over the land. Myself unseen. I was barely a man. When still too young I stood behind altars and ambos shielded in embroidered vestments, collared white. I read the Gospel of Peace. That night, the waxing Cold Moon, almost full, filled with light the desert night. I remember it not at all having lost it among all the words. Many years have gone and now the Cold Long Night moon continues its descent into the ocean just beyond the cedar horizon. On Christmas? She will be three-quarters full, waning, likely to be lost in rain, hidden by scudding clouds holding snow and ice. Never mind. She will be there, seen or unseen, as she has been for all the years I've ever known. ______________________________________________________________ Portland, Oregon - December 13, 2021
Darkness. Silence. Waiting.
When you see darkness and hear silence you know that Advent has come. Look around. Sit still. Speak not. Wait for what is coming. Wind in the trees. Dog bark. Traffic hum. A human cry, far away. This is Advent. This is the season. It is dark out there, perilous chill. We light our candles, consult holy books to little avail. They do not know our paths, what ways we were set upon when we were born. There are choices we still can make, must make for the good of us all. Only this, to walk on the dark paths, to listen but not hear a call. Our words are meaningless now, our thoughts like clouds passing away. Let us wait to see what, or who, will come. ____________________________________________________ Portland, Oregon - Eve of the Feast of St. Nicholas. December 5, 2021 Of all the liturgical seasons set by the Christian faith traditions, Advent is the most meaningful to me. The watchwords of the season are three: Darkness, silence, and waiting. But, beware! Advent is a pseudo-preparation for Christmas. We cannot wait for an event that happened long ago. We can only wait for what is still to come and woe to anyone who thinks they know what that might be! Therefore, no matter what one thinks of the Christian traditions, one cannot doubt that darkness, silence, and waiting are conditions of human life that must be taken seriously.
In Cascadia 