HERE IN THE NORTHLAND, Winter pens poetry upon trees. If only we pause to notice.
I noticed last week as I photographed the visual poetry that glimmered, layered, clung to tree branches within view of my backyard.
Freezing rain sluiced ice along branches like strings of diamonds draped upon the woods.
Then snow fell, icing the same branches in white.
Darkness emerged later with moody Winter unleashing roiling emotions.
Tangled. Twisted. Tumultuous.
But hope shone in the shelter of snowy evergreens, lovely in the gloaming of the day. I observed therein the loveliness a poet sees when words flow from the brain into layers of verses. There’s a feeling of satisfaction, of comfort, of accomplishment. And the light, oh, the light.
The sky, too, the setting for these poems of February, delights. Not when grey. But when blue, oh, so blue.
This is Winter’s poetry, written here upon the Minnesota landscape, if we but choose to see and read it.
© Copyright 2018 Audrey Kletscher Helbling
Check back tomorrow for a post that contrasts this one with a wish for Winter to exit.