My Words

Understanding the World through words

Tag: snow

Green Sled

Hannah was crying
when I walked into the room—balling.
Mom was adamant she couldn’t go.
She couldn’t go with us to play in the snow.

Her red puffy eyes so morose.
I pleaded for her, I was her
adjutant.

My case—

We are family, all of us.
She’s a part of us,
Let her go. If she fusses
then it’s on me, I’ll take care
of her.

No, said her mom,
She’ll only make our time
miserable.

Hannah pleads her case—

Mom, please let me go,
I want to play in the snow,
I won’t cry anymore.

Mom’s heart melted
she agreed to let
Hannah go with us.

At the snow capped hill,
Hannah flew down on
her green sled,
Laughing, giggling screeching
with glee.

She’d shake herself off
adjust her grey winter’s cap
and happily pull her green
sled up the hill once again.

While we cheered,
Go Hannah!

All her tears subsided and
her eyes squinted with sheer
delight!

Pregnant Branches

The naked branches were
pregnant with the weight
of snow.

I Made My Amends With God

The wolf with grey white coat
steps onto the freeway,
heading for the kill left
on the road. The same road
that heads towards Bend.

I’ve seen him before
at different intervals
in my life…

Once, when I was logging
in Alaska trying to
make college money.

On an island
in the South Pacific
near Ketchikan, I
lived with similar fated men.

We were thrust into the
wilderness to find precious
wood that
Japanese bankers
bought by the dozen,
until the tankers
were all filled up
with American logs.

Mostly cedars and fir,
we attached cables to them
and a helicopter would
swoop them up,
like a bald eagle
would swoop up a salmon
during their up-stream run.

One day, in that
dense Alaskan forest—

I turned a corner
and nearly ran into
that same grey white wolf.

We looked at each other,
curiosity got the best of us,
until we went our
separate ways,
nothing came of it,
just a distant
haunting memory.

I remember, I went out to town.
I had to take a plane ride in.
There I met a woman,
who like me—
was desperate for love.

We tore at each other’s
clothes.
We were left
breathless, panting.
I imagine wolves
feel the same ravenous way.

A few years later,
I met my wife.
When I first saw her
I knew she would be mine.
Her smile convinced me
and the softness of her eyes.

I took her to Yosemite
on a winter escapade.

We drove slow through
the snow drift,
the precipitation
leaving its residue on
the road.

Around the corner,
hazy, white,
the way the atmosphere
looks when the snow
decides to make its way down,
we ran into a grey white wolf meandering
near the whitened road.

It was searching
for something?

Staring at us;
we marveled at its girth
and it’s lovely furry coat.

Something about its eyes
were both melancholy and
menacing; a lonely predator
on a desolate Sierra Madre road.

The wolf near the
highway that led to Bend,
stared at me
and brought a flood
of memories.

The wolf was
lazily strolling,
confident
in the midst of the
many holiday cars.

I stopped to look at it,
I cried out to him,

“why are you stalking me?”

“Can’t you see, I’m religious now!”

The wolf’s ears perked up

The wolfe paced and
looked in my general direction
I yelled,

“I’ve made my amends with God!”

He stopped and stared, perplexed;

Eyes fixed back on the kill,

nothing, not even a human, would
dissuade him from the free lunch
left on the road.

Like Dripping Snow

Simple things like
snow with the warmth of
the sun

makes the
frozen icicles drip.

Gravity makes the
water fall,

making
impressions in the
Earth;

carving a
path through the
toughest stone.

The strength of water
is normally underestimated
until you see the evidence
of it on hardened rock.

It allows us to see that
with enough persistence,
we can make changes
when faced with the most
stubborn of things.

The Coldness Of It.

The white of snow
conjures up so many
images:

It’s bleak and beautiful,
pristine yet cold.

It covers up
the surrounding
mountain peaks like a
rabbit’s furry coat.

I imagine
how
saber wielding
Poles mounted on
their trusted steeds,
boldly crossed
a snow covered
meadow

to attack a
German mechanized
Wehrmacht panzer
division.
Camouflaged,
against the white and
green trees.

They
opened fire–
astonished, mouth agape,
Twentieth Century Teutons
meeting animal and human flesh
with hot punishing steel—

stained
the white heavenly powder
red.

I imagine the absurdity
of it
played out like a
Shakespearean drama,

The backdrop—

a lonely
snow covered field, as
peaceful as the one
I see today.

Suddenly filled with
terror
as the contrast of
mechanized infantry
charged by an archaic mounted cavalry,
met each other
on that distant
Pastureland.

Laughable,
by today’s military standards,
tragic, in the sense that
an end of an era occurred.

Nothing about it
makes sense,
only the winter
backdrop and the
mythical coldness
of it in my head.