January 26, 2018
Photo by Brittany Taylor
The rest of winter
A Poem by Hilde Oleson
I heard the moss laugh as I passed it.
It whispered to the wind as it traveled.
“Let her think she will tell her secrets,
That we will give her some answers.
She doesn’t know winter is our restoration.
As the cold keeps the tourists away
I have solitude to refresh my color,
Regain my strength, get some rest.
How wonderful winter is for its people.
We who stay to refresh and renew.
Like the trees who stand tall through the snow storms,
Like the mice who burrow under the ground,
We are privileged to watch red winter sunsets,
To watch pristine white fields of snow.
There is no sound like the snow falling,
So comforting as it lays it’s soft hands
Patting the quiet opulence down.
The frozen pond, with its intricate edge of ice lace,
Smiles up from it’s rest and agrees