Monitoring the delay

Sharp pellets of snow
Chug, chug, scrunch, crunch, I’m waiting
With numbed frozen toes.

Photo by Tobias Reich on Unsplash

Cold Sunday morning

Pigeons fly over 
Taking in all the wonders
Street below's empty.

Now the year begins

Our children have left 

Alone, no decorations 

The tree stands bravely.

Waiting for Christmas to begin

Waking this morning

Wonderful smells of Christmas
Pine sap and coffee. 

Photo by Tony Litvyak on Unsplash

Leaving before arriving

Ice crystals melting
Populating tree branches
Sunrays on snowdrops. 

As I walk home

A stunning full moon 
Lost soul sleeping on the street
Juxtaposition.

A season of stillness

She gazes out the window at the thick grey skies. These dark, short, cold days weigh upon her. She, who once danced through the summer nights with her dearest friends in mind and spirit. The DJ and bar owners had pushed them out the door with a wink and a nod. Sweating and breathless, they’d wandered the early morning streets before dawn, before lights went on in the bedrooms of the homes they passed. All the while, they hummed together the last song of the night.

For weeks now, the dark winter evenings, impenetrable to any inner light, have thrown a thick blanket of slumber and dullness over her. She feels no lightness of being. It is as if all her summer zest has flown south, somewhere along the coast of Africa.

When she meets her friends, she wonders how she ever thought their company companionable. Now she can barely tolerate their chatter, irritated by their forced gaiety. Their evening plans scrape like sandpaper against the thin surface of her civility. Were they always so superficially jovial? Was she?

Winter darkness feels like a rewiring of her brain. Somber, serious, melancholic, these grey days let other thoughts rise to the surface. Somehow, this feels more real than the wild and reckless summer sprite she once flew beside. The question is: if she digs deeper into this current state, will she discover a treasure of profound recognition, or fall into a dark abyss?

A horn blaring on the street below shakes her from her reverie. She touches her cup of tea. It’s cold. Time to cook dinner.

Old woman complaining

Winter bites my butt
And I can't feel my poor toes
Children think this fun! 

A fairy landscape

From my train window
Silver shimmers in the woods
Ice-tipped tree branches.

Waiting for Christmas to come

My family still sleeps 
Church steeples covered in fog 
A hot cup of tea. 

The day after the ballet

Cold winter morning

Misty drops slide down windows

Friends come for breakfast.

Photo by Bernard Hermant on Unsplash

Hope eternal

 

Snowy icy days
Yet, in my dreams spring bursts forth
I keep my eyes closed.

In the dark of the morning

Taking down the tree
Sniffles and coughs and winter blues
Permeate my thoughts. 

Just me waiting for the dawn

It is dark outside
Christmas lights no longer shine
Household still sleeping.

This past Christmas

Daughter visiting
There is a mess on the floor
Rearranged bookshelves! 

Now the snow is melting

Tree branches soaked
An army of waterdrops
Such tiny mirrors.

Nostalgia

First snow has come

Crunching underneath my boots
Christmas can come now.

A whiff of fighting spirit

It is that time of year that I dread the most. November. 

I have taken out from the back of our closet some fairy lights and surrounded the bronze Buddha head, shells, and two glass candle holders on the windowsill with them. Giui comments that it is a bit early for Christmas. 

It really doesn't matter; any tactic to starve off the winter blues is fine with me.

Walking along the canal

I bundle up warm 

My breath clouds my thoughts today

Flock of geese in sky. 

Winter Wonderland

I've written before about a dear friend  wanting me to make her a collage which is dipped in white for her new home. Well, this collage is part of a series I am trying to make dedicated to the colour white. A fine photographer and blogger, kindly sent me a few photos she took of the most beautiful Swedish landscape.

As far as my reckoning goes about this collage: British photographer living in Sweden gives Canadian artist in Germany a magnificent photo to make collage for her South African friend living in southern Germany to place in her new home.

I realise this is another winter landscape, but spring has yet to come. Maybe I will fine some inspiration in white in spring as well. Though, I can't really imagine that happening. What do you think, is there anything in white that isn't snow or fog?