December night
The raw
beauty of winter blows bigger than Disney ice queens and sentient
snow men.
Winter’s
craft is as a carver,
Shaving fine
flakes of ice from spinning clouds, etchings in white.
I see the
small mud whirlpools stirred by the wind of my boots, eddies of sleet, clay,
and sodden hay.
Earthy
pom-poms dangle from the mane of my mare. Eyes bright with winter, she buries
her muzzle into the palm of my hand, tastes a memory of summer in an apple
slice.
There is
beauty in the slash and whip of willow branches, golden-brown laces tightening the
darkening sky.
The pines and
cedars rear up in the wind, shedding cones and needles in a perfumed mist.
The trail of horses’
hoof prints merge; amorphous hollows filling with
Browns, greys
and sullen gold-green, all blending in a winter soup seasoned with cedar-red
bark bits.
Yes, there is
beauty;
Fresh
sculptures that last for seconds, minutes, hours, depending on the carver’s
caprice.
There are
sudden gifts in the blurring, rain-drenched moments, too.
The ruddy
glow on the horizon lingering long after the thunderheads have taken the apex,
A silver slit
of a moon briefly singing through clouds.
The layers of
winter are more varied than even my bulky wear,
I see the
brittle beauty of a bush thrown by frost-hard wind, cast into shape, then melting,
merging into the chill fog.
I hear the crying
call of the coyote that tracks the back field, answered by an unseen forest of relatives,
The trill of a
wren cuts the cracking wind, and the soft sudden patter of movement in the
shrubs defies the stark lines of a frozen landscape.
Even while
rain slips sideways under my brim, through my fringe of hair,
I feel the
night-beauty of winter forming behind my eyes.
You are like that, aren’t you?
That laser
Christ-star drilling through eons of dark days;
A brilliant beam
cloaked in deceptive drabness,
Hidden in tawny
straw, layered in cloths cut from last summer’s fiber.
Your Wind
blows deep, nothing spared, nothing wasted.
I see behind
my eyes your vision when I look triangulated: without, within, above.
Laser
Christ-light piercing fogged brain matter;
Baby
brightness on a December night.
May Christmas be a time of reflection, renewal, and rejoicing as we welcome the Redeemer back into our world.
Merry Christmas,
Faith
