Under Winter’s Shroud

not-quite Journaling, 48

let me be the heart
of your twilight, the darkness
balancing the light

12/21/2022: I usually rise with the sun on the Winter Solstice, but I went to bed exhausted (from physical therapy) and didn’t wake up until almost 10am. But I (and a dry gloriosa daisy I brought inside in the summer) got to soak some sun bliss after breakfast.

 

When gloom and chill fill
skies and flesh and bones,
I rejoice in all the warmth
a sunny picture can hold.

12/23/2022: It’s raining cats and dogs and probably rabid raccoons. The sun hasn’t been out since the Winter Solstice, and I’m missing it. So, do send some sun-warmth my way (artificial light shining on my cactus corner just isn’t cutting it).

 

12/24/2022: In case the cold gets so deep into your bones that you start forgetting that spring is just a few months in the blooming (and yes, by “you” I also mean “me”). 🥶 …🌱

 

12/28/2022: Late last summer, while my flesh and bones and I were in a ridiculous amount of pain, my Piano Man got me a plant to cheer me up. It was the only plant with a lot of healthy-looking blooms and berries. The explosion of yellow blossoms and crimson berries made my day. The plant (St. John’s wort) bloomed all the way until the end of September. I pruned it and brought it into the house in October. Today, it has a single bloom that looks like a tiny sun bedecking my living room. I can’t look at it without grinning like the happiest of all lunatics. 😁

 

12/31/2022: My 2022 in one American Sentence. Now, to live (and write) 2023…

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #58: Reclaim, Rekindle, Rebirth.

In 2022, Enkindle!

not-quite Journaling, 27

 2022 slithers in
under a bleak cape of clouds
it ripped out
of 2021’s rotting grip.

Souls start suffering
the loss (2021 took so much),

then they look beyond the fear,
(Behind 2022’s darkest cloak)
and they see
a spark… perhaps
the sun.

1/4/2022: My Piano Man, the not-so-Little Princess and I had a nice New Year’s Eve—we cooked, we ate, we watched the first episode of The Book of Boba Fett, and we stuffed our faces with grapes (for luck!) as the as the Times Square ball dropped. It was a good night. So, that is the spark I choose to see, since 2022 decided to arrive sunless. 

 

In 2022, Enkindle!

1/4/2022: I seldom do the word of the year thing; but last month, when Dictionary.com shared the word “Enkindle (v): to kindle into flame, ardor, activity.” I knew it was my word for this year. Enkindle has been in my mind ever since. This word feels right, warm, a good focus word for any year (and particularly apt for this one).

 

On fresh snow
an oak leaf conjures
autumn dreams,
under naked limbs
decked in winter lace.

1/7/2022: NYC is being blanketed by the first real snow of the season—cold and lovely (from inside the house). Things didn’t feel half as lovely while I froze at the bus stop. 🥶

 

winter’s bones
can spring the brightest
shoots of hope

1/10/2022: Laurie A. Conley describes her art as “gently spooky”; and that’s true. But there’s so much more to her cute ghost, lively skeletons, and anthropomorphic trees. Her creations brew smiles out of me. They leave me feeling a bit more hopeful. This piece is a new favorite of mine. Doesn’t it make smile… and hope?

 

After
the storm,
a sweet William
dares to spring through
winter.

1/13/2022: This beauty blooms in a ginormous pot outside my VA hospital. I love seeing flowers there… and this sweet William feels extra special (snow is covering the ground, the temperatures have been soul-freezing cold, and this little flower springs defiantly through the bones of her winter-slayed kin). What heart can’t keep from being moved by that gift?

- for Poets and Storytellers United--Friday Writings #9: Telling Secrets.