Darkness has fallen,
Snow, bandied about
by the wind, has settled.
Christmas lights in
windows and over doors
vie with tall streetlights.
Music softens the evening.
Day’s work complete. The
night watch is for dreams.
“I love the silent hour of night,
For blissful dreams may then arise,”
~ Anne Bronté,
Best Poems of the Bronté Sisters
First time ideas
flash brilliantly
but at the speed of light
zip into the distance
seldom caught
always magical ~
as life breathes,
those first time ideas
grow a softer brilliance
“I think that if I had had to slow down the ideas so that
I could capture them on paper I might have stifled some of them.”
~ J.K.Rowling
“All the darkness in the world cannot
extinguish the light of a single candle.”
~ St. Francis of Assisi
Horses led the way…..
Ornaments and lights……
Nighttime walk in the……
Once upon a time……
Unicorns and wood fairies
“Reindeer cannot fly!”
What a lovely surprise! Even though this morning I was made aware that Iron Horse Wedding Carriage & Wagon Rides would be part of Light Up the Village, that info had vanished from my mind. Honouring the surprise, the beautifully calm evening, and the joy of a wagon ride, I climbed aboard. For a brief ten minute ride, we had a short Christmas light tour in Regina’s Cathedral Area.
”This above all; to thine own self be true.”
~ William Shakespeare
the little Nutcracker wishes for you:
“Wherever your home is or is not
please be safe and sheltered from
the snow, rain and cold.”
“It is in the shelter of each other that the people live.” - Irish Proverb
~ Louisa Thomsen Brits, The Book of Hygge: The Danish Art of Living Well
reflection and shadow ~
eased by bright light and
cool, flowing water.
“Without great solitude no serious work is possible.”
~ Pablo Picasso
Morning comes slowly.
With a glancing turn of the earth
light, through cloudy skies, spills
liquid gold onto the horizon
waking the world to blue or gray
white powder puffs or streaking, stretching clouds ~
horsetails my father told me.
When morning comes
the artist paints with sun-rays,
textures with shadow.
Morning comes slowly ~
cold, moist night air sprinkles
delicate silver white glitter
on trees and roof tops,
rocks and fences,
even the most fragile twig,
the tiniest pebble
Morning comes before
my eyes are ready to open
but my senses feel the dawning,
twittering, sleepy birds sense the glow
When morning comes it is time.
Time for a stretch and a yawn
until day gently breaks the night
to blossom on our up side world
while the down under world
settles to sleep.
“In these times you have to be an optimist
to open your eyes when you awake in the morning.”
~ Carl Sandburg
Always a Light
Outside the cabin, the wind howled through the trees, while inside, the old woman’s fire was nearly out. But what she held in her gnarled old hands would see her through this night and many more. Walking into the night winter wind, she had traveled miles through heavy snows, pulling her ragged cloak tightly around her. The hood, rimmed with remnants of fur, covered her head, tied with an old leather thong. Keeping her precious cargo safely in the pouch around her neck, her faith was strong that the old cabin was still in the copse of trees just inside the glittering snowy forest.
There was only kindling and a few logs by the cold fireplace. Keeping her cloak and hood on, she gently set her precious cargo in the broken crockery in the middle of the old wooden table, where it glowed dimly in the cold room. As the fire warmed the room, the glow shone more brightly. Even as the fire died down, licking at the last of the wood, leaving only embers and ash, the glow from inside the crockery became stronger. A bright light that had absorbed the fire’s warmth kept the room both warm and bright.
As the light became brighter, corners of the room were illuminated. The old woman was drawn to the farthest corner where an ancient bed rested, made up with pillows and heavy quilts. Her exhaustion was great. The fire had burned out. Warmth had not yet reached the bed in the corner of the room, but the invitation to rest was too great to resist. She took off her old leather shoes, placing them neatly under the bed. Keeping her cloak around her, she tucked herself under the dusty quilt and fell into a deep sleep. The light on the old table dimmed it’s brightness but kept the room warm. The old woman dreamed and in her dream she met all of her ancestors. Her parents, her grandparents and all that had passed before them.
~~~~~
“May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.”
J.R.R.Tolkein, The Fellowship of the Ring
**Authors note: the first sentence is a random sentence chosen from writingexercises.co.uk
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| Photo taken April 22, 2019. One of the many blossoming trees lining our streets. |
