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.

11/22

Long cold nights

in

Large warm beds

with

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

over

Many tiny voices.

1/15

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.

2/13

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.