
between snowy banks,
a silvery river
slips through cold mountains.

between snowy banks,
a silvery river
slips through cold mountains.

Ancient cathedral:
pews & altar
long gone.
Cold air creeps
through cracks
to flicker candles,
Candles lit for
those long dead —
though long remembered —
on a cold, winter day.

legs in leaf litter,
garden lanterns catch light
that pierces bare woods.

bare branches,
in the Winter forest,
look frost-covered.

chilly winter day,
prismatic splotch in sky—
no bow, no ring.

Winter sun
casts long shadows
through dead grass.

Rainy December day
blows in - not long to stay.
From season to season,
without any reason,
sometimes we feel the fray.
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.
How do you feel about cold weather?
In the abstract, sitting here in the tropics, I’m fond of the idea of winter. When I’m in cold weather, I’d prefer not to be.