Winter

Sometimes I have to believe that it’s just a single flame that is enough to mark the stillness of the season that is upon us one more time. This singleness of a quiet promise, as well as a companion, shield, and whisper to the unseen world outside the window. How fortunate I feel that I get to take this moment and pause. So—- Now , I have placed my candle in the window, opened the door enough to allow the breeze in from the frost and the glow spill at the threshold of 1283. Allowing all that passes, (guided spirits too) see that there is warmth and hospitatilatity at the corner of Watsyn.

I believe that this is my favorite period of seasons as I build my playlist of poetry from musicians that express stillness and traditions. Chanting of the customs that ancestral dedicated for their very own survival of a long quiet, cold and dangerous season.