Category Archives: Nature

January Night

Reflections by Doc Arnett

I hear the wind
high and hard above the trees in the back yard,
feel its stony edge hammer through
the thin legs of my dress pants.

It pounds along the ground,
refreezing the thawed mush of the earth.

It pushes through
the seams of woods and brush,
shoving up against the cold brick and rock
in an indifferent rush against the house.

I step into the unlit porch,
welcoming the warmth inside the darkness.

On such a night as this,
it is good to have a place
beyond the wind’s lancet,
a place where love is strong.

I climb the stairs,
still hearing the wind beyond the walls and roof.

I lie down in warm blankets,
close to the one I love,
grateful, kept, held,
knowing and being known.

Together, we sink into sleep
in the keeping of Him who sends both wind and fire.

H. Arnett
1/26/10

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A Reminder of Hope and Light on a January Morning

Reflections by Doc Arnett

In the dry heart of winter,
the cold splinters around us,
shards of light cut through
night’s thinning darkness.

A teasing sun rises to the south
of what we believe is east,
bringing an illusion of heat
to leafless limbs and bare branches.

On other days,
a gray heaviness hovers around us,
hazy shadows shift slowly
in frozen passings.

Even through this mist of clouds,
a touch of Light still moves within,
easing clenched fist into outstretched hand,
whispering hope into a land of doubt:

“You live yet
and God still works within you.”

H. Arnett
1/8/18

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the winter chill

writings & wildflowers

the winter chill in the air

means it’s quiet overhead

but the silence

of the trees

doesn’t mean they’re dead

just asleep, hibernating like a bear

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Photo Monday – Cold

Deux souriceaux

Someone told me it wasn’t that cold out so I skipped the snow pants when I went out to Prospect Park to catch the last of the day’s light. Mistake #1.

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Someone (the same someone) told me it wasn’t windy so I figured zipping my jacket all the way up would suffice. I skipped the scarf. Mistake #2.

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(See the the white powdery stuff in the air? That’s blowing snow. Snow that the wind picks up from the ground and blows around on this totally not windy day.)

It wasn’t as cold as the day I went in the woods but I felt it so much more without the protection of the trees. I checked on the ducks and geese. They weren’t even huddling that much. Huh. I still bet they wished they’d gone further South for the Winter…

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The park was pretty empty except for a few families staying…

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Middle of the Bridge

Schibolet

The bus drives slowly

On the bridge over the river

Frozen since long time

Life moves slowly in the cold

But it moves even in the most

Adversarial conditions the strife to survive

Slowly the evolution takes place one winter

At the time, breaking down what can’t hide

From the Eternal cold in this northern town

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Retreat

Schibolet

The days are short

In the north

More like a combined

Dawn and dusk

Creating a depressive

Mode of inaction

Retreating and defeats

Is in my mind

Lost causes and cold very

Cold nights

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The Arctic Cold

Spirit Traveler's Notebook

Ulysses_and_Circe_12

With his aerial winged feet,

from the Mount of Olympus,

The North Wind arrives

with a terrible breath of Frost.

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crows in the snow

Randal The Handle

black feathers
black as sin
reflecting the darkness within

white flakes
driven snow
covering the world as it goes

the bird sits silent
refusing to sing
drifting snow covers his wings

weighing him down
he cannot fly
a crow doesn’t think to wonder why

he shakes his wings
the snow falls free
raucous brethren call from a tree

they fly through the sky
avoiding the snow
cawing and calling as they go

black feathers, white flakes
clouds of grey
another long winter’s day

(2017)

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This is the time of the opening of the rose.

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Preceding article

(Poem) Endless Time

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Purplerays

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There comes a holy and transparent time
when every touch of beauty opens the heart to tears.
This is the time the beloved of heaven is brought tenderly on earth.
This is the time of the opening of the rose.

~ Rumi

Text & image source: Earthschool Harmony https://web.facebook.com/SpiritualQuotesandSoulfood/

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The twilight thickens, and…Leaves but a hallow’d memory of love!”

Portrait recadré de Lovecraft

Portrait recadré de Lovecraft (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A lovely poem by Howard Phillips Lovecraft (born August 20, 1890, Providence, Rhode Island, U.S.—died March 15, 1937, Providence), American author of fantastic and macabre short novels and stories, one of the 20th-century masters of the Gothic tale of terror.

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Purplerays

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“The cloudless day is richer at its close;
A golden glory settles on the lea;
Soft, stealing shadows hint of cool repose
To mellowing landscape, and to calming sea.

And in that nobler, gentler, lovelier light,
The soul to sweeter, loftier bliss inclines;
Freed form the noonday glare, the favour’d sight
Increasing grace in earth and sky divines.
But ere the purest radiance crowns the green,
Or fairest lustre fills th’ expectant grove,
The twilight thickens, and the fleeting scene
Leaves but a hallow’d memory of love!”

― H.P. Lovecraft

Text & image source: Harmony https://web.facebook.com/Harmony-578149188866564/

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