The previous day bathed us in winter light
as the sea sang us to sleep.

Today we slowly become wet snow-people
as the storms take over the landscape

and we marvel at the beauty everywhere.

Just a few hours after arriving we were visited
by the guardians of the north shore…

With fresh snow 4 to 6 inches deep
we cleared a trail into the woods.

Waking that morning, the Aussies were unsettled
and more vocal than normal.

Following the path, we crossed
that of a wolf visiting overnight.

A red cabin in the woods
beneath the pine trees
sagging from the winter snow,
is all I need for solitude.

Submerged in the depths of winter,
the land beneath layers of ice,
and the pond a giant glass oval,
I dream of childhood…

As the snow blanketed the sky and trees
we listened intently to the radio
waiting, hoping that our school
would close for the day.

After snowstorm stopped,
outside in the front-yard,
the snow piled high along the street,
we built snow-forts and prepared for battle.

Now, so many years later,
dreams and outlooks have shifted
and what was more external,
has become an internal quest
for silence and peace,
watching the setting sun.

The boundary between the empty field
and the old pine forest

transports me from the confines of my mind
into the ancient memories of childhood.

Walking between the giants,
they hold up the sky

as I listen to each one
and feel the warmth rising from the earth.

They were here before me
and they will stand above me when

the final day of the this life arrives
and I prepare for the next.

As concrete melts into dirt and grass
and skyscrapers become pine trees,
I fall into the snow and promise
myself to stay until spring.

As the snow continues to fall,
I am covered until I become
the snow and the earth and
the roots of spring’s growth.

What was a full mind
is replaced with snow,
ice, and water dispalcing
everything until there is nothing.

What does she see across
the snow covered field,

in the distance or nearby?
Is the coyote following us today?

Silence broken by a single raven
leaving one tree top and heading east to another.

Silence until we hear crunching snow
and snapping twigs.

What is that in the dense woods?
We become still and listen,

looking for shadows and movement
aware of the universe surrounding us.

Like the last leaf from spring
hanging on into winter,

or prairie grasses overcoming
snow and ice,

life hangs on to a tenuous
thread and each day is a gift.


Returning to the fields
where it all started
so many years ago.

It was here I decided
which path I would take
and to never look back,

even when the sun falls
and the fields are obscured
with shadows and mist.

That crossroad we come to
in moments of stress and blocks,
the struggle choking rational thoughts,
the behavior, the actions – this is not me.

How did this happen?
How did I get here?

Change is subtle and patient.
One day we vow to find balance,
to live and act a certain way,
to be, most importantly, better than
our-self yesterday.

Then time takes over,
and one winter morning, awake before the alarm,
thoughts are consumed with the upcoming day,
week, and months, items and events beyond
control, but consuming, pushing
away everything that is important, that matters.

Closing eyes tight, breathing, trying to push
this away and overcome the thoughts, but it has wrapped cold bony
fingers around the mind and wont let go.

I am losing sight of the path,
I am losing focus of the empty fields.

Each day folds into another as the weeks
and months pass with little notice
and soon another year rises beyond the horizon
and I am forced to confront where I am in this life
and if this is where I want to be, is this the path
I started down before?

How do I break from this cycle?
How do I wrestle back control and stake claim
to the life I am meant to live?