At midnight  silence beckoned.
It told that snow had fallen. I rose to stand listening, fingertips pressed together at a windowsill alter.
Creeks flow, hushed and reverent. In a vast forest the size of cities, she and I are the only human souls that hour in a sea of unbroken indigo.
Ours, Â the only breathings, our dreams alone hover over an immaculate complexion of winter. Be still, and know…
Amazing grace.
Beautiful poetry and photograph. I just now noticed your barn. I first thought the white was a wide river, and wondered where you shot the scene!
Now this is what your blog can be, a balance in your writing life. Let the left brain find additional venues for your concerns for our planet and government, but your right brain can use this very appropriate venue for photography, poetry, musings, and we all will benefit.
I am mailing you a book I just finished that might speak to your last comment on the previous post. “When Breath Becomes Air”, a bestseller last year. The author has a terminal illness and his final months are full of searching for what best to do with his remaining time. You will relate.
This is what I always came to see. Get back to this. Regards.