Monday, February 21, 2011

Journaling Journey

Looking through my journal this morning I noticed that most of the winter I have been writing about winter. Here is a little word-walk through my winter.

Long cold nights
Large warm beds
Small soft dogs.

There are people talking loud outside
as if there is something to be loud about
but there is nothing.

Long dark sky
Many tiny voices.

When the days are dark enough
to need to read with lamplight
near a window
we know
the best is yet to come
and that, for now,
we are in those thick heavy months of ill-adjustment
relentless resistance
to being still,
and striving for the boundless hope and energy
of brighter months.

But, our eyes will adjust.
Now is not the time for busy things
or sweaty tees.
So, go ahead,stay in bed
a bit longer.

Sweet warmth of sun sitting
Crackling collisions of cold rain
crashing on the glass
like a last chance to fall.

Eve of spring.

Brightness and becoming
crocuses crouching
waiting for when
they can stretch out
their green bodies again.

That's most of the lyrical contents of this winter. The literal things, as always, take up too much space. Which is to say that there are many things I could write to explain and describe the last few months, but I won't. This should suffice.

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