Winds howl

Fierce winds swirl around the house and come up under my feet in this old room of wide plank floors basically on the earth. It is finally cold and the second day that snow has been on the ground all season.

Sorting out direction amid the wyrrd socio-economic politics of the world beyond my grasp, causes internal discordance that even strong winds cannot clear.

Woke before dawn and lay in bed longing for peace and solace. Should have just gotten up and made coffee and a fire. Now, though it is still early, the sun is already moving high and mocking my loss of the day.

One thing at a time is so hard

.

Open the door

Today is Winter. Cold and white and quiet. And yesterday was Spring, soft and warm with birds singing.

Today we fought touching cords that shattered hearts. Must be the Imbolc season of breaking.

Today I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what we have built up or broken down with words and silence. Only that there are tears, and that beneath the snow the water flows.

Today birds flock in the branches around the Bridget shrine. They fly almost cheerily there and yet are no where else about.

Today the trees silently drop piles of snow like oversized flakes and the stream gurgles loud.