February 7: Five degrees

Anticipating moonrise
the plumes of my breath
obscure Jupiter

February 6: Life imitating art

One of my favorite art genres is the 19th century Japanese woodblock print (ukiyo-e). Shoveling out after this latest in a long series of generous snowstorms, I was surprised to find I still possess any capacity for finding beauty in this absurdly snowy landscape.

A Japanese print--
snow-laden willow arching
over my driveway.

February 5: Bird flurry

Flurry of siskins

flocks the snowy feeder--

a bright storm of birds.

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February 4: Winter state of mind

What's going through the mind
of the huddled dove
unmoving in the sun?

February 3: Heard on the street

I thought a raven called
but it was children playing
in the snowy street.

February 2: Morning Meditation 6

In this morning's guided meditation for Winter Feast for the Soul, Tibetan monk Anam Thubten described how in a certain meditative state we feel "empty inside in a beautiful way." I couldn't help but think of Wallace Stevens's poem The Snow Man, which is referenced in line two below.

More snow falling.
It takes a mind of winter
to simply watch it fall.

February 1: Embracing the snow

My husband and I snowshoed up Beech Hill in Rockport this morning, in hopes of soaking up as much sunshine as we could before the next snowstorm rolls in tomorrow. The snow was beautiful--pure, fresh, dazzling, patterned with striking shadows and animal tracks.

 

Snowshoeing on Beech Hill--

our path intersects

that of a snowshoe hare.

 

 

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