Sunday and a Child's Message

 

    Today's writing should be read as a follow up, companion to yesterday's: I Can Hear it in the Wind 

Sunday and a Child’s Message

    Sunday – and the morning rises cold. Sunlight streaming, warmth retreating. More light than heat in the east this morning. But I am up. Awake and cold.

    Sunday – another day, another week, in the longest of years. Would this be a day of safety and security? Or, given our recent history, a dreadful day of struggle for survival? An age of cruelty and we wonder what we are becoming. Unsociable. Unwanted. Unwelcome.

    What would be revealed today? My sickness. My wounds. Nothing unexpected.

    Sunday – half empty faith with too much knowledge and too little experience
    Sunday – half empty faith with too little knowledge and too many experiences.

    And here it is: I know nothing with certitude. I know nothing with a knowingness.

    No more words of boasting. No more bounding bold claims. I needed to worship and to write. And to listen to whispered words.

    Sunday – in the pew. A child’s message is slipped into my hand. A child’s message written in block letters and blue marker:

    Be Kind.
    Be Courageous.
    Be Curious.
    Love, L.

    Sunday – things change and change again. But never in a straight line.

I Can Hear it in the Wind

     Saturday – I want to walk, get up, get out, get moving. Do something. Go. But it’s cold with the snow and the wind over the frozen ravine cuts into me. I’ll go as far as the top of the hill, maybe a little more. You can see the highway from there. Call it just over a mile. Enough move the blood.

    It’s been a year, maybe a little more, of war and smoke filled streets. Blood. Evacuation order without notice, without warning. Eviction orders and arrests without warrants. Fire on the hillside, in the neighborhood of beige and gray houses. God and silver and precious oil – wood, and hay, and stubble – let it burn. They all will burn. And the fire will reveal what it’s all worth.

    I can hear it in the wind: What is this new-found fascination with truth? With fact? The cold war is here. Freezing. There’s no time for careful deceptions – for photoshopped photos, AI manipulations, or hand-forged letters. Get out. Get gone. The ICEman cometh. This is the way. This now. You thought you could change the world? Get out. Get lost. One day you’ll understand the long-term value of verbal abuse.

    Pull the coat a little closer. Walk a little faster. It’s colder than I thought.

The Fires of Winter (a new Christmas Carol)

 I wrote this short little carol today as I delivered mail. I heard the melody in the wind-chimes hanging at one of the first houses on my route and the song developed throughout the course of the day. 

The fires of winter keep the cold away.
Long is the night, short is the day. 
We will bless the Lord because he came to save 
and because the fires of winter keep the cold away. 

The fires of winter keep the wolves at bay.
All through the night we can hear them say, 
"You should bless the Lord because he came to save
and because the fires of winter keep the wolves at bay."

The star of Christmas came to guide the way.
Shining at night for magi on the way. 
We will bless the Lord because he came to save 
and because the star of Christmas came to guide the way. 

From the Winter Walks

 

I’m a postal carrier these days. I walk every day- in the wind, in the snow, in the fog, in the sleet and freezing rain. Every day, five to ten miles. It’s not much, but it’s honest work. It gives me time to think, time to write, to compose. 

I Cannot Remember the Sun

 The moon may be bright but the night is so cold and lasts so long that I can remember neither the sun nor the apricity that warms my soul even when my finger tips are cold. 

Struggling with Winter

I’m struggling to keep to blog current and active. I’m struggling to find time and energy to create new content for it. I’m just struggling, I guess.

Anyway, here are a couple of recent photographs I’ve taken.

Always winter...

Here Comes the Sun

Christmas Eve Fog

It was foggy today - this Christmas Eve day. But fog and ice can be very nice.

Downtown Winter Wonderland

Guardian of the Christmas Tree

Winter Storm

South Skunk River Snow

Winter Pond (No Trespassing)

No Trespassing (no worries. I was on the right side of the fence.)

Snowfall - January 25

What a lovely afternoon.

January 19 (Winter in Iowa)

It's snowing again today.

January on the Street where I Live

Winter like Abstract Expressionism

A little camera shake makes for a nice image.

Cool Winter Abstraction

Dandruff can be treated, but not cured. Oh well. If I'm going to have dandruff, I'm going to make something interesting of it.

Crystalline

Looking very closely at something - even a broken Christmas ornament - can often reveal something interesting - more interesting than the original subject, even.

Geese on the Ice

This photo was taken at the Mariposa recreation area in Jasper County, Iowa, yesterday afternoon. That ice won't be there much longer.

Geese by Jeff Carter on 500px

I Cannot See the Road

Rain falls on the prison walls
razor wire glistens wet
my sentence served
released, set free
the gate slams shut behind

Lonely thunder overhead
freezing puddles underfoot
the road is long
my jacket’s thin
and I have far to walk

Home and wife are barred to me
she’s gone and changed the locks
the judge has signed
an order to
protect my wife from me

Cold rain becomes snow and ice

no one’s driving in this storm
I can’t go home
and won’t go back
I cannot see the road 

***

This poem is based on the story told to me by one of our recent clients.