"The world is new, and you
have been chosen to say this poem,
because you are the one with the love bites on you.
Your love has brought us to this silence,
where the only obligation
is to walk slowly through a meadow
Winter is the poem I'm obligated to say....
And yet, how difficult to see in winter. A little easier on those rare days of frost and fresh snow.
The hydrangea in our front yard so delicate.
And this is the backyard:
This is near the entrance to the field we sometimes walk in - though last week saw a rather huge coyote not far from here and so have been a little wary.
On a frosty day I hopped in my car and drove a short distance to a path we sometimes walk in summertime. The sun made it difficult to focus. I came home mainly disappointed because there was just no way for me to capture the sparkles out there. It was -20c, and my hands were too cold to stay out very long and it was to bright to review the shots I'd taken in the viewfinder.
The next few are from one of my usual morning walks with the dog on the usual path. The sun had come up and I noticed these Christmas lights over someone's fence, glowing, bright and colourful. The frost being burned off by the sun - it didn't last long after.
So, I'll ask myself Rumi's question again:
"Do you love winter or summer more?
You may have whichever you like,
winter for you, summer for me."