the dining room window into the back yard

becoming rather than become

some times

she becomes

so very

like so many birds

like so many fish

dispersing

coalescing

cloud and particle

nothing

and everything

pass your hand

through the space

she was

and there is

and then there

isn't

an allness

a wholeness

dissolves into

a nothingness

as if

she is becoming

rather than become

.

winter branches

winter branches

reaching across a frozen river

in a few months they'll create shadows

on the water

and shade for the fish and the little animals

passing underneath

what is on their mind?

well it's lovely to see that even though it's cold as a cat's curse, 

the trees are still holding regular meetings on the state of things.

mid winter

crossing the narrow walkway over the lock in beavermead park here in peterborough. 

the ice has cracked ever so slightly in the middle . . . 

friday night bike ride

in from a late friday night out . . . twelve forty five on a much warmer night - minus seventeen celsius . . .

here's my bike waiting to come inside . . . . 

the front brakes got kind of frozen up so they were pretty useless!!!

a fun night out and a fun ride home!

managing the cold

it's been a cold week of biking. i haven't missed a day. so temps between minus twenty six and minus thirty four celsius are becoming par for the course. 

strategies to manage the cold and its effects are including coffee, excellent winter ale from granville island off the west coast of british columbia, tasty spicy food and zydeco music from new orleans. . . here's a fun example . . . 

biking in january

the sound of tires crunching ice crystals and sand.

inclinations

there's a place in me 

that is inclined to remember

so much of what i overlook

i find it in the meltwater
of a mid winter river

in the soft echo of a tree shadow

in the footprints of animals needing to drink

sometimes

i call it

my self

the thrum of her imagining

in this night

of small lights

and softened faces

i heard eyes

that spoke

and mouths that whispered inwards

holding the place of our affection close -

 clenched fist tight

winter biking

winter biking

scary at times

exhilarating

and beautiful if i ignore the slush

the black ice

the cold

the fear

and afterwards the rush

of making it 

to wherever i am 

safely 

and by my own effort

and then remembering

the beautiful parts

the moments

and of course

the hot bath

and the coffee

to wash out all the rest!!

[month of] january

[month of] january

it freezes- all across a soundless sky 
the birds go home. the governing dark's begun: 
the steadfast dark that waits not for a sun; 

the undefeated enemy, the chill 
that shall benumb the voiceful earth at last, 
is master of our moment, and has bound 
the viewless wind it-self. There is no sound. 
it freezes. every friendly stream is fast. 
it freezes; and the graven twigs are still. 


excerpted from [month of] january by hilaire belloc

a single drop of dew

time is engraved on the pale green faces 
of the floating lotus leaves. 
our hearts are a sea, a lake, 
finally a little pond, where 
spider webs interlock over the round leaves, 
and below them our longing 
is only a single drop of dew.

hsiung hung

the shadows . . .

the shadows grow fast on the water.
you can tear them,
but not tear them away.

hsiung hung

the old story . . .

sometimes, suddenly the old story overcomes us. 
time triumphs then. 
and lets down its hair — 
shadowy black, 
trailing like a willow.

hsiung hung

scarves

mist

like white scarves

wrapped around the throat of the pond

island (i)

earth, stream and tree encircled by sea 

waves sweep the sand from my island. 

my sunsets fade.

field and glade wait only for rain 

grain after grain love erodes 

my high weathered walls 

which fend off the tide 

cradle the wind to my island.

excerpted from "islands"   king crimson

when in doubt

i do this almost every day

wave

at someone i don't know

and it's amazing

that they wave right back

with a nervous

and sometimes gently curious

and sometimes

 (but more rarely)

a slight edge of thrill to their body language

that we cross the invisible barrier

of know you / know you not

on a regular basis

reminds us all that

we are simply souls

in bodies

with strange and circuitous journeys to make

and that perhaps

we should honour

each other's presence

by the simplest 

and least affecting of means

on a regular basis

just to clear the cobwebs 

and the rusty bits

out of the system

sunday

on sunday morning 

the bells peal across the frosted rooftops 

losing something of their muffled echoes 

in the scraggled tree branches 

bare metallic and  

blackened 

against the grey winter sky

still as silence

front of house

a winter morning

everything held

still

as

silence

a little glimpse

a little glimpse of winter

from the window

of my daughter's room

this bridge between hard places

i race

across the bridge

between the hard places

-

i bet you know

the sense

of relief i feel

as you yourself have likely experienced that same stepping away

from one hard place
and that same looking ahead
to another

that moment of relief as you step away
that is
 entirely filled 

with the voices and colours and sounds and people

of all you might have imagined to that point

and then just as suddenly
felt
the extraordinary

emptiness 

of the great space between 

the unknowing

where there are simply

no referent points

and you stand
posed somewhere between

here and there

and 

otherness

in the great suddenly filled with nothingness

of the space
between what might have been
and what might be

simply a song

the sky fell in tiny flakes . . .
uncountable numbers

and when i squinted my eyes
i saw the flakes were like so many threads connecting the sky and the ground

and i imagined this world i lived in as held together
by these slender threads
and that i was but one thread
connecting heaven and earth

and that the wind
played me
like music

and i was simply a song

late afternoon by the sea

desire gratified

abstinence sows sand all over
the ruddy limbs and flaming hair,
but desire gratified
plants fruits of life and beauty there.

william blake

a loosened spirit

he ate and
drank the
  precious words –
his spirit grew
robust –
he knew no more
that he was poor;
nor that his
frame was
  dust –
he danced
along the dingy
days
and this bequest
of wings
was but a book –
what liberty
a loosened spirit
  brings –

emily dickinson

it lingers somehow

there's something of christmas

still available

in the air

the coziness

the warmth

and especially 

the small richnesses of colour

because really

it isn't about a day

as much as it's about a state of being

an acceptance

that goodness

and kindness

are possible

and entirely available

if you are available

to them

i absorb the shining

a single pebble of pure ice

lying on the beach 

captivated me

on a recent walk

alongside the water

it's life

no less transient

than my own

no less significant 

than that of my own

---

my teacher taught me the lesson of poverty,
having nothing and wanting nothing.
   
i absorb the shining and now I see the ocean,
billions of simultaneous motions
  moving in me.

rumi
(excerpted from "i have such a teacher")

this we have

this we have now
is not imagination.
   
this is not
grief or joy.

not a judging state,
  or an elation,
or sadness.

those come
and go.
   
this is the presence
that doesn’t.

rumi
(excerpted from "this we have now")

look what happens!

weak and beautiful
precious sunlight finds its way
to us
even in the middle of winter

-+-

even
after
all this time
the sun never says to the earth,

"you owe
me."

look
what happens
with a love like that,
it lights the
whole
sky.

hafiz

the new year's day ice cat

the new year's day ice cat scans the sea for signs of sunlight