Today I look out my window
And on the sill a white hyacinth
blooms
Forced before its time to
offer hope
Of springtime yet to
come.
Beyond the sill and pane
Lay mounds of crystal
snow
Swirling from a winter
squall
And settling on the pregnant
land.
Who am I to question
winter’s aim?
I force bulbs of spring
to evoke a future time
And the white beyond
calls me
To the presence of this
season.
* * * *
Earlier this year I wrote
about white space and how my thinking of this concept has called me to create
space beyond work and obligation. I am always thinking about the next
step. What comes next and what needs to
be done now. And this fast thinking can
stop me from noticing and embracing the present.
This small moment for me
was a gift. A moment. A gift of acknowledging the now. Winter seems to be a season that is total
white space. White is the color produced
by reflection. Winter harbors time and
is a season of slowing down and reflecting.
Its white space invites me to pause.
I have a paperwhite about to open, Deborah, so this poem certainly touches me, too, although we no longer have the 'white space' outside. I love 'calls me/To the presence of this season". It means much more, doesn't it? Thank you!
ReplyDeleteI find myself feeling much the same as you, when the winter snow settles over my town. I am struck by its' vast beauty--that clean slate of white. I often catch my breath and am reminded to enjoy TODAY. I must forgive yesterday...I must not worry about the future...and the challenge is simply to be grateful for right now and remember that I am all I need to be for the moment.
ReplyDeleteI love this, Carly--clean slate of white. Thank you.
DeleteBeautiful poem and slice. The need for white space to reflect, for quiet. I live in a temperate climate that is embarrassing lovely year round. Writing like yours makes me think I am missing something big though. I don't know if I could handle the cold, but the poetry and silence that it evokes is appealing. A refuge. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyDeleteI love the contrast of the frozen white world and the touch of forced spring. Winter does force one to slow down when blanketed by snow.
ReplyDeleteSimply lovely. And so true. This, I think, is much of what I love about winter too. Thank you...
ReplyDeleteA lovely stillness and beauty captured in your poem, Deborah. Our white landscape has disappeared for the moment, but I did enjoy it.
ReplyDeleteHas disappeared here, too, Tara. It has been a back and forth kind of winter for sure.
ReplyDeleteI had not thought of winter like this before but it aligns well with thoughts that come up in my mind often about being present. I do feel a sense of awe and peace when in the snow, so I enjoyed reading your words. I also loved the asterisks as a division looking like falling snow.
ReplyDelete