Look around you where you walk. Listening, moving forward, smelling and thinking. Where have you been that allows you to open your senses and be at peace with simply being human? And what time of year would that happen for you?
The above photo is from a summer hike in the mountains close to where I live. Pictured here is the time and one of those places for me.
On this day in winter, Robert Frost has been gone 50 years. His vision of nature was his own. During his own time. What will the rest of us leave behind?
As I write this, the clouds lay over our town like a lid closing over us inside an unforgiving grey box. Dark. Undecided if next comes rain, wind or snow.
The cravings begin.
For the fire in the wood stove, raging hungrily as a wild starved animal fed continuously with dry cedar, then roaring with delight.
For me, it's the smashing color and the remembrance of spring and summer.
Like the feeling from an instant crush as the clear-eyed saxophone player winks and sends a cool breeze through my opening heart from across a crowded room tinged in blue.
And I see it now, but only in my mind.
I listen and wait for your return.
Yet another winter time muse whispers from the player of imagination. Freeing my captive boxed-in soul if just for the moment...
Yet another winter time muse whispers from the player of imagination. Freeing my captive boxed-in soul if just for the moment...
