Wintering Time

It is the silence of the past

scattered in fragments

that lull wintry minds

to just be.

It is the hush of evening light

chased by chilled winds

that alter quiet paths

into sanctuaries of thought.

It is the magic of a fire

rising in reverent ways

that settles senses to rest

in winter's embrace.

Shall we find quiet in stilled shadows

where winter trees stand alone

or perhaps search for winter warmth

wrapped in time's blanket? 

©CV, 2022

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After Thought

Drippings from My Winter Mind

I cannot steal time

to discover my desires,

only listen to my quiescent mind

to achieve tranquility at rest.

©CV, 2022

I wrote the above poem during Laura Shovan's Annual February Poetry Project. I liked certain stanzas but upon review, I felt revisions were needed. After a night of being awakened several times by the howling wind, I felt inspired to continue to find the words to express what I felt about the topic of quiet. My revised poem addresses stanzas that needed massaging. 

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When Ruth Ayres sent an open invitation (no. 75: quiet) to share our stories, I took the opportunity to dive into the magic of winter's hush. Centering myself, I mulled over the Rumi quote sent by Ruth and vowed to listen to nature's pulsebeat. I am glad that I carved time this morning to listen to the howling wind to find beauty in its call.

"The quieter you become, the more you are able to hear." - Rumi

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Below is my poetry postcard for the February Poetry Postcard exchange organized and scheduled by Jone Rush MacCulloch. I sent this card out to the ten members in my poetry postcard exchange I would like to offer this digital card to all who read my blog post today. 

Thank you for joining me in this experience of wrapping my heart in quiet.

May you find the blessings of quietude as winter transitions.

❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅❅ 

Thank you Ruth Ayres for the invitation

to SOS: Sharing Our Stories Magic in a Blog.

and

Thank you Laura Purdie Salas

for hosting Poetry Friday this week and inviting everyone to your Online Book Launch Party for your new book, We Belong.

Around My Table

"The world begins at a kitchen table."

Joy Harjo, from Perhaps the World Ends Here

While Tropical Storm Isaias raged like a lion last week on Long Island, we spent four days huddled around our kitchen table grateful for hurdling another dark stormy event in our lives. The darkness and sweltering heat surrounding those days left my family and friends breathless, isolated, and far away from reality as we functioned without power, electricity, hot water, and the internet. Little did we know of life outside our neighborhood that was strewn with heavy branches fallen from massive trees. It was the kitchen table that brought us together with electric candles as we talked and began the cleaning-out-the-freezer process. 

I think back on all the years the table served as a hub for family life and am grateful to have found Joy Harjo's poem to ponder. It became a catalyst for me to write using her line, "The world begins at a kitchen table," as a prompt. Her poem is full of the beauty of kitchen life. At the end of October, my family will leave our Long Island home of thirty-eight years for a second chapter of family life. My table memories will fill my life with joy.

We start each day in our hub, the

kitchen, with a revolving world

of conversation. Life begins

with a daily gathering at

dawn where a  

litany of thoughts flow from the kitchen.

Evenings sing of gratitude around our sturdy table,

washed with years of joyful and sorrowful tears.

©CVarsalona, 2020, Long Island

I missed Poetry Friday last week due to the storm but am happy to backtrack and connect with my writing friends. Connections are important in this world during quarantine life because they keep spirits high. Thank you to my poet friend Laura Purdie Salas who was last week's host. She has an original poem and a wonderful, information graphic on "Why aren't you writing a poem?" Although I am late to join the roundup, I feel that this poem needed to be written and sent out.

A new kitchen waits for me here in Virginia.