Now, back to wondering. I won't be wandering far for a while. I'm home. :)

Why is the cold so intimidating?

It's no fun to be stuck inside all day, but it takes such effort to bundle up and brace against the frost.

However, yesterday I went running. It was exhilarating! I've realized that that's one of the times when I feel most alive: charging up a hill, watching my breath fall beside me, feeling the ground below and the muscles pushing me higher and farther. Heating up, breathing in, breathing out, going on.

In the cold, you have to keep running if you want to stay warm. You can't stop. You can't slip. You've just gotta go----->

I've decided that I like winter after all. The still, the stark, the frozen. The sharp contrasts of red rock, white snow, clear sky. The soft landing and biting cold. Icicles reaching down imperceptibly, stiff branches clawing the sky. The flush of red nose and cheeks nearly buried in insulating layers, laughter ringing through the clear, frozen air.

Once they've shed their lush, bright summer garments and all is quiet, bare landscapes reveal their true colors. Pastel rocks glowing in the weak winter sunlight. Colors intensified by a backdrop of white and grey. A single snowflake on an old leaf.

People, too, show their true colors when all is cold and quiet.

Winter beauty is subtle, but real.

While Thumbing Through the Past

More random poetry I dug up from the inner pages of my Quills (high school creative writing club) notebook. Let me know what you think :D

Grace
Yesterday's flowers rest by the window,
each day seeing more of the world beyond.
The boughs bend and lean as they age,
but twilight is not darkness-
just no longer bright.


To the Beat of the Clock
I ponder as it thunders out the window's smock
why the seconds slowly lumber or the shutters knock.
I can't return to slumber, for midnight ears can't block
the whispers and the wonder and the tick-tick-tock!


The Mask That Frees
Opening night
Lights up, there's no turning back now
Become another.

Fears- those are yours, not hers.
Lights, too bright-
blinding-
make a wall between the watchers
and the life you live.
A curtain between what's real-
and what is.

This is yours.
Her life, her eyes, her laugh,
belong to you.
Freedom from impersonation
Free to be yourself
in her.

So let it all out.

Feel her thoughts, show on your face.
There's the cue- now listen!
to the heat, to the words, to the music.
Feel your way in the light.

Live the moment through her eyes.

Love it through your own.


Brushing By
People live
on the surface
afraid to come up from the depths
because deep wounds
bleed
from the soul.


Letting Go
The last leaf
clings to its familiar perch
while all else withdraws.
Then, with a final breath,
releases
and flies.