Narnia

It looks like Narnia outside

The snow has piled up in heaps
On naked branches and bare streets
Turning Moscow into Narnia
 
I feel like I could float away
Like if the snow kept coming down
And I closed my eyes and spun around
I’d dance my way to Narnia. 
 
I’d go exploring, through those woods
Where trees can talk and tell me tales
I’ll forget the stress and work and bills
And get lost somewhere in Narnia

Triumph

The green and downy turf is noiseless on this path I tread

Sweet life’s aroma rises from the ground-

This hallelujah field- and eagles soar above my head

Letting loose into the sky their wartime sound

Fall

The sound of a lawnmower

Humming in constant crescendo and decrescendo,

Swishes and crunches of red and gold leaves

The cover the ground like a carpet, 

Light streams through vibrant colors up above

Like a vibrant splash of liquid stained glass,

Deep red of ripe apples, and rusty orange of plump pumpkins

Soft and shining golds and yellows

Glistening like jewels

Kodak

Remember this moment

Clouds playfully dancing, making pictures in the sky

The lustrous green of a carefully manicured field

A perfectly formed mound of dirt placed right in the center

Garth Brookes blaring from loudspeakers

And voices in the dugout sing it wrong, sing it strong

Dust swirls around the catcher and the umpire

As a determined number 25 digs his heels in the dirt

His focus shifts from his feet 

To somewhere out beyond the fence

Somewhere… where he summons courage to face the pitcher

Who stands after the windup, poised to swing

And the ball charges through the air

A whoosh

A crack

And the white and red blur soars up again in a wide arch

With a grin as wide as a watermelon

25 rounds the bases

Leaving a trail of dirt and dust in his wake

 

Butterflies and Angels

Fragile beauty in a colored frame

Flits about from flower to flower

Refreshing every fading life it touches

 

Hidden beauty in a human frame

Hopping about from person to person

Brightening every broken heart she contacts

 

We hesitate to bid these fleeting miracles farewell

But that’s the way it goes with butterflies and angels

They stay for a moment, and leave in a flash

Leaving a legacy:

Flowers freshened, and hearts healed

Amateur Snow Angel

The first snow of this year

Did not begin with magical magnificence

As if a collection of miracles made in heaven

Were being slowly poured out on earth with measured precision

This snow…. 

This snow was like a fire 

Which raged and roared and then sputtered out

Because some amateur angel in heaven, too excited to be accurate

Dumped his snowy bucket all at once

Sporadically tipping it back and forth in awkward motion

Till all his jar was empty

And stillness filled the snow white streets of earth

Life in Snow

Truth is the white snow outside your window

And you, inside, on a cold winter day

 

Beauty is the crystalline form of that cold manna

Enrapturing, captivating beauty

 

Love is the pure and dainty flakes

That fall like cold kisses from the heavens

 

Miracles are whole blankets of pure white

Coating the land with shining, sparking light

 

And death…. death is not blackened flowers and cold, dry air

Death is the beginning of spring