Winter Poems // Subbing

img_1281

 

I am longing for spring but still trying to find beauty in these deep winter days. Here are a couple of poems I have been working on. Yet another layer of my “being” practice. How do you instill a sense of the present tense and paying attention to the moment in your daily life? Yoga? Going for a walk or run? Breathing? Meditation? Writing?  Making music? Drinking tea? There are many ways to practice being present!

An another note: I am subbing one more Saturday 9:30am All Levels Yoga this week on February 8th at Willow Yoga in Arlington Heights! Hope to see you on the mat or perhaps outside drinking up the cold, crisp air.

Peace, Love and Namaste,

Kristin


A Sunny Day in Early February 

 

The winter overcast was so thick 

I could slice it with a butter knife

smooth and soft and edgeless and

endlessly peeling back the layers 

upon layers, grey upon grey, 

until finally the sky revealed itself

in early morning hues of pink turning 

blue so rich and almost warm I wanted to

drink in its beauty, bathe in its color, 

sing myself into a song of light 

that would last me until spring. 

 


Evergreen

 

Consider the pine, the conifer, the spruce

the fir, the holly, the juniper.

A tree always green even in the depths 

of the seemingly endless and bleak winter.

Ever optimistic, staying jolly all year

despite the rest of the neighborhood

falling into a state of utter loss.

They stand tall and proud

green needles against the cold sky

boughs outstretched as if to say

“Here I am. I am here. As I have always been.”

Hoping that they will be remembered.

their beauty not forgotten during the 

other seasons, when the evergreen 

fades into the background against 

nature’s other vibrant colors. 

 


Remember Summer I

 

I miss the sound of bird song

the chatter high in the trees

shrilling shrieking 

calling me home to

a place I have seem to forgotten

except for in dreams and wishes

the memory slipping through my fingers

like the ceaseless winter wind.

 

How I wish I knew what their conversations were all about:

The weather? A lover? The meaning of life? 

In the summer it is a constant hum in the background

a drone at which I go about my daily rituals and tasks.

But now, in the dead of winter, what I wouldn’t give for 

their endless noise, the thrilling laughter of 

the world coming alive again. 


 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s