The words I use are simple abstractions Falling asunder Written in the snow As I contemplate the morning sky.
There is something hypnotic about the sky at dawn. This is the morning of not quite light and not quite darkness. The slow rising light in service to Aurora, goddess of the dawn seems to linger in the eastern sky as the sun peering in from the horizon awakens’ compliments of brave Helios and his trusted steeds. And Venus, the Morning Star watches in approval as the sun trades places with the moon for another round. In many ways and in many masks God heralds in the light of a new day. This is an ageless dance, a ritual we celebrate each morning as we awaken from our night sea adventure.
I go outside as the chill of the winter air embraces me like a blanket. I instinctively shiver, but this is just the birthing pains of a new day witnessed each morning… as it never fails to take me aback. The only hint of warmth I feel is in my hands wrapped stubbornly around a hot cup of coffee. The contrast between hot and cold makes for total awareness with all my senses.
Surrounding me are deciduous trees that have lost their leaves to the good earth while the evergreens stubbornly hold on. The winter is a cry from Demeter longing for Persephone to return from the underworld. But even in its scarcity, the land is hypnotic, painted in pastel shades of grays, blues, and greens amidst a blanket of white.
While the wind’ blows snow in all directions like a dervish ecstatic in spiritual dance, I hear the brilliance of nature emerge; an animal scurrying through snow weighted thickets, the crackling of ice on a tree branch as the temperature climbs, the weight of snow causing an avalanche from unseen heights.
Thus, I stand at the cusp of dawn in this winter landscape with snow falling silently allowing this hollowed experience to embrace me and infuse me with a heightened sense of the balance needed to nourish all of life.