terrypetersen

Men are not moved by things but by the views which they take of them. (Epictetus)

ICED WINDOWS, FROSTED VISION

White sky and ground

blend into a seamless horizon

where snow-encased branches dominate

as threat or as beauty,

whether the scene is viewed

from a ditch or a window.

December, January, February,

eased into March,

the months where

six-pointed flakes commune,

fragile alone, yet bound gaining

the power of a frozen battlefield

or the awe of nature’s art.

a bond for better or worse

solid, white yet susceptible

to dirt, ugliness, separation.

Which moment, light or dark,

will settle in the spirit when

ice succumbs to bright sky again

and tree buds loosen their grip?

I kick off my boots

and let them dry in a warm house.

I allow my toes to find feeling again,

then embrace soot, crystal beauty,

and battlefield.

Life belongs to the whole.