Friday, December 17, 2010

Frozen earth

I step out into December this morning

and the frozen puddles crack like shards of glass.

Frost blurs.

Sounds reverberate.

Dirt hardens to rock.

Branches snap.

It all echoes loudly.

As the wind whips through,

the edges of nature brace themselves for a long hard winter.

Then something shifts.

Something small.

The wind blows east

ever so slightly.

And for a brief moment,

There is a kind of clarity

that may just be enough.

Week 44. Refuge moments.

Some weeks I find myself focusing more on where I want to be rather than where I am. The past few days I have been questioning this, wondering why must I always do this. Why must I torture myself like that? Then there is a rare day when I can see what I have. I can slow it down just enough to stop this cycle. On those days, I’m not so overwhelmed by it all. I take a snapshot in my mind because these moments seem so few and far between. At this time of year, when we are faced with the harsh cold, I feel as though I am looking for a warm places to settle into, a kind of refuge. A moment where I don’t have to fight the elements and I can just be.

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