the face of frost

in the chill

of a winter morning

even the rocks

bravely wear

the face

of the night's frost

~

deeper in the woods

under

a protective canopy

of snow-laden branches

the green fingers

of summer

still rest

on a boulder

ellen's question

ellen popped by here the other day and asked

"are you ever anything but serene?"

i thought about that.

about

me as a person.

about

the blog as an entity.

about

the connection between the two.

i know that there are vast areas of my life

that get little to no space here.

i work with really clever, cool, creative people every day.

i interact with over three hundred students

in some way shape or form.

i am blessed with the privilege

of teaching thirty of them.

i have three really lovely and amazing children.

one from my first marriage and two from my second.

i have a very small but deeply important to me family.

i have lovely and good friends.

i have dreams and wishes.

i have issues and challenges.

and of course,

i have thoughts and ideas

that go well beyond those expressed here

explicitly or inferentially.

i love a vast range

of art

and music

and writing

much of which

doesn't end up getting shared here.

i have tremendous sadnesses

and overwhelming joys.

i have inexplicable fears.

i achieve things that are difficult to explain.

i know things that i shouldn't

i don't know things that i should.

i am human,

and so i allow

the full range of states

that i am willing to take responsibility

for either creating

or welcoming

as a part of my experiencing.

i'm fortunate that

i have a refined internal dialogue

that allows me to manage

the trials

and tribulations

of those sometimes difficult states.

i've watched the blog

change shape as i have

gained confidence

in expressing an understanding

of what matters to me

first on the outside edges of my world

and then gradually

moving inwards.

so, that part of me that celebrates

the natural world

beauty

love

kindness

grace

peace

connection

joy

and

simplicity

is serene.

it finds its voice here.

in this place

that i've created and

that i especially like to visit.

i hope that that answers

your excellent question ellen!

with ribbons streaming

bright cap and streamers,

he sings in the hollow:

come follow, come follow,

all you that love.

leave dreams to the dreamers

that will not after,

that song and laughter

do nothing move.

with ribbons streaming

he sings the bolder;

in troop at his shoulder

the wild bees hum.

and the time of dreaming

dreams is over -- -

as lover to lover,

sweetheart, i come.

james joyce from "chamber music".

in the half-light of a winter morning,

light and shadow coexist side-by-side.

inside and out.

undulating across snowy hummocks,

thin threads of sunlight rise and settle.

the shadow loves the light.

because

without the light's knifes-edge glare,

the shadow

is merely darkness

~

"light loves shadow.

because without shadow's soft depth

light

is merely blinding glare."

dan gurney

some trees

in the still of winter,

trees stand tall and silent.

you can sense the life in them

but it's contained and carefully protected.

nurtured

like a small fire.

they stand still,

scratched against the thin blue winter sky

that fills with cloud,

empties

and fills again.

weak branches break off.

ice coats every twig.

frost cracks the trunk.

and still they stand.

still.

some trees

these are amazing: each

joining a neighbor, as though speech

were a still performance.

arranging by chance

to meet as far this morning

from the world as agreeing

with it, you and i

are suddenly what the trees try

to tell us we are:

that their merely being there

means something; that soon

we may touch, love, explain.

and glad not to have invented

such comeliness, we are surrounded:

a silence already filled with noises,

a canvas on which emerges

a chorus of smiles, a winter morning.

placed in a puzzling light, and moving,

our days put on such reticence

these accents seem their own defense.

john ashbery

the snow man

for many people,

winter is a difficult time.

cold, dark, without cheer.

i understand that.

so i have found a way,

a means by which i can live

with those very real features

of what - for canadians in the eastern woodlands -

constitutes as much as one third (or more)

of the calendar year.

you see,

for me

the arrival of snow brings with it

the rekindling of memories

of winters long past.

the softening of the landscape

softens the eyes and the heart.

wallace stevens wrote about the experiencing of winter

as a means for understanding

the apparent emptiness

of a winter landscape.

it gifts us with a rich metaphor

for "the nothing that is".

the snow man

one must have a mind of winter

to regard the frost and the boughs

of the pine-trees crusted with snow;

and have been cold a long time

to behold the junipers shagged with ice,

the spruces rough in the distant glitter

of the january sun; and not to think

of any misery in the sound of the wind,

in the sound of a few leaves,

which is the sound of the land

full of the same wind

that is blowing in the same bare place

for the listener, who listens in the snow,

and, nothing himself, beholds

nothing that is not there and the nothing that is.

wallace stevens

pull back the curtains

pulling back the curtains

on a day . . .

icy fish swim by in a sea blue sky.

strange alien forms stick their tongues out . . .

and otherworldly sailboats drift by

hello world!

i like for you to be still

i read this as a love poem.

not a love poem

that a person might share with someone else.

a poem that you might choose to share

with the allness of everything.

i like for you to be still

it is as though you are absent

and you hear me from far away

and my voice does not touch you

it seems as though your eyes had flown away

and it seems that a kiss had sealed your mouth

as all things are filled with my soul

you emerge from the things

filled with my soul

you are like my soul

a butterfly of dream

and you are like the word: melancholy

i like for you to be still

and you seem far away

it sounds as though you are lamenting

a butterfly cooing like a dove

and you hear me from far away

and my voice does not reach you

let me come to be still in your silence

and let me talk to you with your silence

that is bright as a lamp

simple, as a ring

you are like the night

with its stillness and constellations

your silence is that of a star

as remote and candid

i like for you to be still

it is as though you are absent

distant and full of sorrow

so you would've died

one word then, one smile is enough

and i'm happy;

happy that it's not true

pablo neruda

the mirror of moments

like little windows

on a dreamworld.

a silent wind

frozen in the haze

of a winter pool

the slender wealth of winter

in the slender

wealth of winter

there are small riches

waiting to be discovered.

~

i like to read

a similar

acknowledgement
in my interpretation of
liu zongyuan's poem

river snow

a thousand hills, but no birds in flight,
ten thousand paths, with no person's tracks.
a lonely boat, a straw-hatted old man,
fishing alone in the cold river snow.

new year's day

two

very different trees.

two

very different perspectives.

on new year's day

i long to meet my parents

as they were before my birth.

soseki natsume

my new year's wish

to the many extraordinary people

who share this existence with me

with such love

and with

such joyous

and unconditional

acknowledgement

of the tremendous fortune

we experience

in the privilege

of simply

being here

i wish

the blessings

of love

creativity

and peace

and the fulfillment

that those states bring.

steven

the eve of the new year

i saw the sun

setting

its rays

flying upwards

in a rose-coloured plume

so i ran

to the edge of the fields

where the last petals of light

kissed the sky

the air was thin and cold

the trees

tall and silent

the fence line

hummed

in the wind

and from

across the fields

i heard

"i promise i'll return"

spellbound

the night is darkening round me,

the wild winds coldly blow;

but a tyrant spell has bound me

and i cannot, cannot go.

the giant trees are bending

their bare boughs weighed with snow.

and the storm is fast descending,

and yet i cannot go.

clouds beyond clouds above me,

wastes beyond wastes below;

but nothing dear can move me;

i will not, cannot go.

emily brontë

the wise trees

stand sleeping in the cold

william carlos williams

and fragile folk might be here

that white winds bid depart;

thomas hardy

the sun

that i exist is a perpetual surprise,

which is life.

rabindranath tagore

~

light.

at this time of year

sunlight

is a gift.

i look for it

tucked away in the flare

of a sunset.

in the tangerine wash

of a glowing snowdrift.

~

the sun gives without condition

its gift is received and used

in every way imaginable . . .

imagine what can be learned from such benevolence!

a stone which has become a ruby is filled with the qualities of the sun.

no stoniness remains in it.

if it loves itself, it is loving the sun.

and if it loves the sun, it is loving itself.

there is no difference between these two loves.

jelaluddin rumi

across the fields at dusk

across the fields

at dusk

the air

painted blue

to grey

stillness

spreads

like breath

through

the rustling

of a thousand

winter grasses

breathed out

on

the thin dark words

of a crow:

a story

wrapped like a scarf

around

the crimson filigree

of dogwood.

my little buddies

long time visitors to the golden fish

will recall

that for the last couple of winters

i have maintained

a fairly large community of rabbits

who favour the little carrot sticks

and vegetable tasties

that i chuck out the back door.

i am usually held in high regard by these little bunnies

until late spring at which point they seem

to disappear.

well a few days ago i happened to notice

a burly brown rabbit hopping across the snow banks

and sure enough

- after i set out some tasty baby carrots -

here is the evidence i needed

that one or more

of my little furry buddies is back!!!!

so i went out

and said

"welcome back little buddies!

i'll take care of you!"

i hope they were listening.

moving on

the day after christmas day

there's a deeper quiet about my home.

people are fast asleep even now.

the lights are all off.

wrapping paper has been

carefully gathered.

gifts organized or put away.

not quite as if it hadn't

all happened.

but not quite as if it had!

today

we visit my mum and my aunt.

so a journey

down the highway

and then

back again

helps make this day special!

now the new year

can present itself!

christmas day!

hey!!!!! it's christmas day!!!!!!

so a big happy christmas to all of my readers no matter where you are.

i remember one christmas holiday

travelling around with a group of my friends to sing christmas carols.

our goal - fun - pure and simple.

i recall that we had imbibed our fair share of riesling

before we headed out on our noble journey

which only served to enhance the joy

for the singers

if not the listeners.

singing isn't one of my strong points.

so rather than share something

personal but possibly off-putting

i'd like to share with you

three carols sung by people who know what they're doing.

starting with my favourite . . .

i saw three ships

next up will be good king wenceslas

the lyrics for this carol are rich with images in my mind

connected to my last christmas in england.

i was eight years old

and staying at a "christian endeavour home"

in saltburn up on the yorkshire coast.

at the time, my dad was three thousand miles away

carving out a life for himself and his shortly to be arriving family.

it snowed while we there

and i recall one journey out into the countryside

that filled my mind with

(what have become)

archetypal images of a magical christmas.

i wish i could put the sensations of that particular day into writing for you,

but the effect of seeing snow,

moorland, waterfalls, rivers,

and the pennines

filled my head and heart

and to this day i can recall and feel

the very same childlike wonder at it all inside me.

and so i'll indulge myself further

by sharing the lyrics of good king wenceslas

with you here .

good king wenceslas looked out, on the feast of stephen,

when the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even;

brightly shone the moon that night, tho' the frost was cruel,

when a poor man came in sight, gath'ring winter fuel.

"hither, page, and stand by me, if thou know'st it, telling,

yonder peasant, who is he? where and what his dwelling?"

"sire, he lives a good league hence, underneath the mountain;

right against the forest fence, by saint agnes' fountain."

"bring me flesh, and bring me wine, bring me pine logs hither:

thou and I will see him dine, when we bear them thither."

page and monarch, forth they went, forth they went together;

through the rude wind's wild lament and the bitter weather.

"sire, the night is darker now, and the wind blows stronger;

fails my heart, i know not how; i can go no longer."

"mark my footsteps, good my page. tread thou in them boldly

thou shalt find the winter's rage freeze thy blood less coldly."

in his master's steps he trod, where the snow lay dinted;

heat was in the very sod which the saint had printed.

therefore, christian men, be sure, wealth or rank possessing,

ye who now will bless the poor, shall yourselves find blessing.

to learn more about this carol then you can give one of my old posts a read!

and of course last but not least, the holly and the ivy . . .

a very happy christmas to each and every one of you!

steven

christmas eve day

henry john yeend king 'twas the night before christmas

there's a hushed expectancy

about this day

that echoes back through my life

to days

when waking

with one day to go

was almost too much to bear!

the hope.

the anticipation.

all wrapped and carefully placed

under the tree.

there to be seen.

there not to be touched!

still fresh in my mind

the memory of

the sound of reindeer paws on the roof -

i heard them once -

the shadow of father christmas

- i saw him tiptoe past the foot of my bed

as i lay in half-sleep

the glory of food

to outshine feasts on any other day of the year

these

and even the forgotten memories

conspire to draw this day deeper

into that magical land

where it is possible to imagine

vast christmas stockings

arriving at the foot of your bed

bulging with chocolates

and little toys

the feet of the christmas tree

surrounded by brightly wrapped presents

all tumbling

one over the other

in their abundance.

pure joy!

but for now, one more sleep

one more sleep!

my favourite christmas card

some time ago i came across a short film

that i eventually bought.

i shared it with my class last week.

it's my favourite christmas card!

it is a simple story of a snowman who comes to life.

it might sound familiar

but it has a

deeper beauty

than "frosty".

much deeper.

here's a brief clip from the film

accompanied by an exquisite piece of music

sung by the incomparable peter auty.

even the words are beautiful:

we're walking in the air

we're floating in the moonlit sky

the people far below are sleeping as we fly

we're holding very tight

i'm riding in the midnight blue

i'm finding I can fly so high above with you

far across the world

the villages go by like trees

the rivers and the hills

the forest and the streams

children gaze open mouth

taken by surprise

nobody down below believes their eyes

we're surfing in the air

we're swimming in the frozen sky

we're drifting over icy

mountains floating by

suddenly swooping low on an ocean deep

arousing of a mighty monster from its sleep

we're walking in the air

we're dancing in the midnight sky

and everyone who sees us greets us as we fly.

or if you prefer aled jones then this lovely rendering will transport you to magical places also!