The Great Awakening

It won’t be long now.
Already the light is penetrating
the darkness, dissolving the illusions,
pulling back the heavy curtains
that concealed the blazing Truth.
Let it in. There is nothing to fear.
Hear its song. Let it wake you
and fill you with the power
of its promise, with the strength
of its goodness, with the reality
of its message. Take my hand.
We will dance in it together,
dancing as one, dancing for all.

Dreams of Flying

Before they even slip into
their golden-yoked shells,
before their bodies even begin
to form bones and beaks and brains,
the spirits of birds dream of flying.
That is why they come here.
They come pushed by dreams
of sky rushing through feathers,
of gliding through air, of darting
among the branches of trees.
They dream of swooping and falling
and climbing again on strong wings,
of racing with clouds and drifting
on breezes. It will take effort,
this dream. But they hold to it
until it turns true and they find
themselves flying.

January Sunrise

Only three weeks have passed
since the solstice, but already
more seconds of light stretch
the days. This morning, I watched
the snow-blue horizon tilt toward
the pink sky and saw the great star
rise golden, pouring its radiance
over the frozen hills. Here:
another precious, pristine day.
I am wrapped in the wonder
of it and feel lucky, down to
my toes.

Light Dance

Light glares from the ice,
floats up from the snow
bright enough to make you
squint your eyes. And still
you want more, for clouds,
thick and dark are sailing
fast across the western sky.
A storm, they say: a big one.
But now there is this light
rushing through your eyes,
shining into every corner
of your being. And somehow
that is all that matters.

January Thaw

All at once, a breather, a moment of respite
from the cold. Temperatures that, in summer,
would seem chilly feel so balmy to us now
that we go hatless and leave mittens behind.
It won’t last. The forecast says up to six inches
of snow are on their way. But today the sun
is shining and we remember the feel of spring.
The creek wears a layer of water over its ice.
And on its banks, even the trees are dancing.

Listening to the Silence

The pines stand listening to the silence.
It is deep and goes on and on.
They can hear it in the center of their cells,
in the snow at their feet, pressing against
and rising from their bark, caressing every
needle on every bough, both those in shadow
and those bathed in light. It feels like truth.
Far in the distance, traffic hums on a highway,
sounding like meditating monks.

Frozen Moment

Once it all freezes it becomes a kind of abstraction.
Only the essential forms remain, the merest hints
of color. Even the song of it stills to a frozen note.
And you wait, wanting it to be more somehow,
to move, to breathe, to escape the icy moment
that holds it, trapped, beyond time. Let it be.
Take the image home with you. Let it crawl
back to life in your dreams.