CREATIVE WRITING AND PROSE
A SEASON FOR SNOW AND SAND
There were hazy melancholy fogs in the city skyline
that now seemed to fade into the Ocean endlessly.
Years of passing between Sunrise to Sunset,
years spent longing and looking out windows….
We came upon the Shoreline, a crisp wind that blew through the hair.
A slight chill that reminded us of winter,
but the sight of the sun sparkling along the rolling waves
made us more alive than ever.
You watched as I followed,
distant memories forgotten now come ashore in a changing tide.
East and West meeting in the middle,
a winter’s last snow crunching underfoot and melting in the sand.
There was magic lingering in the salted air,
and something about seasons juxtaposed
that made me see God’s miracle.
Something that said there are no limits to what is possible.
You turned around and perhaps it was then
that I saw Spring.
A lightness in my heart,
a beauty blowing somewhere amongst the dunes.
I listened to the water that washed away all evidence of gray.
Leaving these lives a freshly opened page that January day.
A moment, one moment caught between snow and sand.
You were there to show me
and I to hold your hand.
AS HE WATCHES
There were seasons I once knew so well,
that would fall like autumn leaves year after year.
Snows that would frost the ground beneath and wither away all that’s green.
I could learn to wilt in those gardens unkempt,
as I did for so many seasons.
Existing without nourishment, without tilling or watering.
Woman as a flower, without cover fighting against the winds
of inevitable demise.
As my gaze fell upon the mountains in the distance,
the birds soaring effortlessly through a nearly unmoving air
I was somehow brought back there.
Brought back to the memories of changing times,
Times spent cycling through love, hate, joy and utter despair.
Times spent searching into those very same distances with blindness,
and an armoring of the heart and guards of thousands.
I watched with astonishment as my breath found a new rhythm
slow and steady as never before.
I noticed the simplicity of standing still.
Could it be that time stops when we begin to take notice of it?
Like a child playing a game of hide and seek, that freezes at the subtle suspicion of detection.
Those mountains knew of no such time,
The birds sweeping in a dance, of love, of delicacy knew little of a clock and it’s ticking hands.
They appeared silhouetted against the sun in its golden final bursting
fracturing the light in glimmering flares that caught my eye’s attention.
As I watched, I felt the Earth move underfoot,
Or perhaps it was I that was moved.
Perhaps it was I whom had journeyed just as far without wings
The storms weathered in hopes of safer harbors.
The seasons traversed with only knowledge of tomorrows I had yet seen.
Perhaps it was I that had moved,
Moved along this crooked, crooked path,
this forlorn path that had left its indelible scars
Yet I persevered.
The sun winked as it slinked behind the canyons,
It had recognized endings and beginnings
for it had lived that destiny long before I.
On this day, spring had come early.
The air was dry and warm against the skin.
There was a stillness unexpected this time of year,
And a temperament of conditions not quite typical,
But neither was I.
My breath continued slowly, steadily,
My heart in these unfolding moments found peace.
Peace in what was,
And what is to come…
I turned the corner from the winding trail,
To find myself atop a great mountain that stretched over what I call home.
I turned the corner from the winding trail
stood still to take in the view, the birds, the sun, the thoughts….
The thoughts that calmed my senses
The thoughts that led me to gazing at sunsets and the sunrises
which I knew would curl themselves around, to find me waiting in anticipation.
I stood still and thought of God’s great design.
All of them…