Thursday, January 7, 2016

Art Of Winter: Mischievous, Intelligent, Industrious

Snow beneath our feet at our winter home on the East Coast. Grey outside, lava red inside.
 Live well. Laugh often. Love much.

Eyes of an Eagle

Eyes of an eagle, strong enough to stare
Into the sun’s heart, wings on the rise
Mounting into the sky, no longer caring about height
We see the rising sun
A new sun always, ascends once more
Plumage with beams of gold
The glory lingers; glory is like day
Beautiful heaven, renewed continually
By light, by love, by wind and snow
The waters where we swim and boat in summer
Are seized like a rock in winter
That winter’s grip transfigures all that went before

Give mortals keener sight
So in our marveling
My golden child sees the sun’s return
Rising from arctic night
Out in nature during the winter months
Of gold made richer by those months of dark
So squirrels spring to the tree for a spark
Touch the treetops as we fly
The valley with grey mist accents winter below
Where no boats lie anchored in frozen ice
All venture in the vice
Of total stillness held,
A sea whose voice the Sungod must restore in spring

Before night’s veils, patterned by myth were drawn
From navigators’ eyes
What bridles held the dawn
What birds of omen crossed the unknown sea?
Who now can see it rise into the clouds?
The sun, as first it rose above the shore?
Only the first and last make vision true
Our lives are richer for the breath we draw
We see our children or as eagles see
Rhythm of life bring visions of art
An inner heaven opens for view from below and above

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