Behind and within the clouds there are mountain peaks. I smile to see the clouds resting like the migrating geese upon the lake. I have left cornmeal blessings upon the trails to welcome winter’s solstice and to give thanks for nature’s gentle rhythmical seasons. To think how “old” nature is, yet we do not see the passing of seasons as aging. Nor shall I see my own. When the foibles of age hide the childlike youth I know is there, I shall see but clouds resting on mountains.
A simple scrich to say welcome Winter and thank you Autumn. And to recall John O’Donohue’s words in his poem “To Light”:
Light cannot see inside things. That is what the dark is for: Minding the interior, Nurturing the draw of growth Through places where death In its own way turns into life.
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