Memories in snow.
The big lazy flakes of snow drift down
with the north
And in slow time the earth hardens to ice
The wind a constant it seems
In cycles of the northeasterly pathes
Yet I do love this self imposed exile
what is it ,
The winter of my soul?
I remember as a kid the
of snow and cold
Spent hours there looking out
the windows at
an unchanging scene
Not unlike a recurring dream world
nature really is this
a living dream
Going back in time fifty years , Probably my first outdoor memories are of snow , the smell of coal burning somewhere ,..... drifting woodsmoke and the harsh north winds that accompany a storm path , The natural beauty of an endless cycle , one day grey .... dark .....wet , dripping and cloud strewn . The next stormy ..... blowing , deep ,deep blankets of cottony beauty and then the cold silence that accompanies the next storm front moving aloft , days and even weeks of cold nights , sunny days and the whispering moans of the wind in the tall pine trees .
And just like flicking through the quickly turning pages of a book , the visions pass before my inner eyes . And within them I smile at the faces of loved ones as they run by me , and even now with most of them gone .....the memories remain and cycles of winter move along .