We think of snow

And we think old man winter.

Today I was with  snow,

A different tune this March.

I’ve been in wet, heavy  flakes

falling on already frozen ground,

the silence

opening up  spaces

for reflection

just ripe for fireside wine.

Today the sounds

reverberated everywhere,

distant thunder…

plops of wet snow on the bricks…

squeaks of bark and limb…

swaying with the wind and weight

of it’s wet white  visitor….

sometimes breaking and falling

onto death

in the street.

To listen is to hear

that spring

comes from rumblings

previously cast

under frozen layers

of our lives.

To awaken

is to feel

this lifeforce

wanting to be seen

and heard.

CMP 3/7/18