Winter Postcards

Dear Dead Birch,

I’m intrigued to see that not only are you still standing, but you’re ready to fly, flap wings that maybe you’ve just discovered.

You open your chest, the hole for a heart; embracing air, looking up. I see your triumph, the process of losing everything, including your green life. I see that it has not stopped you yet, not even in your less dignified phase.

I see that you’ve had some luck, also called grace.

You’re stylin’ with much pizzaz, in front of everyone who takes this popular walk.

December 26, 2023

Hi again you-

You fleeting, beautiful, understated-yet-dramatic Moment.

I see you often, since you’re on the walk up the hill, between the driveway and the office. But today, I involuntarily paused. The quick, wet snow is already melting. The cloud cover has kept it sticking around for a few minutes longer.

I also hear your occasional glop drips.

Thank you again.

January 9, 2024

Dear Softie,

A tiny slant of sunset light has captured a not-so-tiny cloud; One definition of softness, even if it’s frigid and still.

Such is the way of your winter light.

I am away this weekend, where my mother’s home used to be. A certain time that has stamped me in forever ink. Between the quiet and the passing of time, I can slow down and feel softness, not just the icy cold kind, but the joyous hot riot that is born of family.

I’m always happy when we get together.

January 21, 2024

Dear Spring,

The monotony of winter is getting to me, and I’d like you to come home soon.

Show me again that sometimes what was dead comes back alive. Show me that it’s not over ’til it’s over.

Show me your surprise and heartache.

May 4, 2019