Friday, November 9, 2012

winter seeing

"The real subject in poetry isn't the voice. The real subject is silence. It's like in architecture, where the medium is not really stone or metal, but space. We use materials—brick, glass, whatever—to inflect the immaterial, space. I would say that the real medium of poetry is inner space, the silence of our deepest interior."

~ Li-Young Lee {read the full essay here}

Maybe it was a year ago that I came to the essay by Li-Young Lee.  Maybe it was last winter. Maybe it was when the snow fell for two days straight and I remembered the quiet of winter, the silence that finally seeps into one, watching the snow accumulate, watching the snow italicize bare tree branches.  The subject of winter isn't snow, it's silence.

Winter is difficult. And the snow brings us a difficult beauty. But it is beauty.

Our eyes will adjust now, to seeing colour with surprise, and with some degree of disdain.

The bones of trees are caressed now.

Winter seeing begins.

A more patient seeing?

The dog buries his head in the snow, goes for a run with his nose under. Then waits, patient, for me, to finish looking at a leaf, the way the snow gathers on top of fence posts. 


  1. I appreciate your thoughts and lovely photos of snow. I would like to step into it for a short time and do vicariously thanks to your sharing. My world is still green and warm. I appreciate that most of the time. I love your line about the bones of the trees being caressed. For sure, there is a beauty in your winter.

  2. "watching the snow italicize bare tree branches" -- Love this line. Perfect for today. And the patience of your beautiful dog.


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