This is a poem I wrote as winter began to let up its grip in Oregon. Portland is far enough north that we have real seasons, but far enough south that they don't keep hold that long. Because one of my friends is Australian, I keep thinking about that. It's night there when it's day here. It's summer there when it is winter here. I believe it is very good to keep that difference in mind. It can be one of the true salutary effects of our internet connections if these connections can give to us the true measure of the planet. I can exchange with my Australian friend, but not easily converse. She lives upside down and backwards, or I do.
I have another friend who has gone rather quiet. She lives in Tehran. Ouch.
Hidden Under Snow
Thank You for water
fresh from the spring at the head
of the running creek
hidden under snow
sparkling in the sun of love.
I've seen with Your eyes,
know I've seen through love,
through the angelic limpid
true soul of fierce joy.
February 13, 2009 8:59 PM
Hurry
6 days ago
Giving thanks, no matter to whom, especially for water of life, is healing in itself in my opinion. I give thanks for my little life and I have learned in this post to look for "fierce joy". Thank you for this post.
ReplyDeleteWherever there's winter, spring can't be far behind.
ReplyDelete...except in Antarctica, but who's counting that?
Yep. Upside down for sure right now :)
ReplyDeleteI've decided to strive for gratitude, just for today anyway....and fierce joy, there's never enough of that.
xxx
I was following the pack
ReplyDeleteall swallowed in their coats
with scarves of red tied ’round their throats
to keep their little heads
from fallin’ in the snow
And I turned ’round and there you go
And, Michael, you would fall
and turn the white snow red as strawberries
in the summertime
White Winter Hymnal
Fleet Foxes
Yes, Joseph, who's counting that, except the people in Whitehorse and Mendenhall, Yukon Territory, where it takes a little longer and gets a little darker. Spring is a short moment and summer is a little longer. The growing season I am told is pretty intense.
ReplyDeleteMichelle, can one actually strive for fierce joy? Here you go, right side up again. It's me that's upside down, like I said. Loving you.
Ghost, Your music, I can almost hear it.
There was nothing but silence
ReplyDeleteeven echoes muffled, buried
under threat of avalanche
though I screamed and raged,
stomped my feet, needing to know
Why, Why? But then
softly at first
just a gurgle trapped
under winter’s glaciation
you whispered
then spoke
a shout breaking through, a roar
shimmering a thousand mirrors
of pale sunlight, kissing
earth’s hope of spring.
How I loved you then.
Yo, Rachel. I get better than I give.
ReplyDelete:) I love it... everything.
ReplyDeleteI don't see why not?
ReplyDeleteA simple matter of setting your heart I imagine....snort
But then, I'm kind of sideways today.
Thank you for your thoughts and 'stuff'......
xxx
Michelle, I hope you will tell me how it works out. Fierce joy running through you for very long probably begins to show, like turning your hair curly if it's straight or vice versa, your skin becomes a golden color and your eyes begin to flash fire perhaps. Something like that.
ReplyDeleteQuite possibly...I have felt it like that :)
ReplyDeleteIt is a gift to share perspective as though fresh water from a spring. I've been lucky this way.
ReplyDeletexo
erin