Days like this
bring out the memory
of hibernation. We take naps
on the couch, we wake up
to mammalian smells
and dark that fell
while we were sleeping
Our brief trips outside
have sweetened the warmth
of our dwelling,
the fire speaks to us
in familiar tongues.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 31, 2019
I watched the ice — its shapes,
the way they fit together,
how they had drifted off a little space
and sat like puzzle pieces on the water
edges ridged and ready
to bump or join
I reflected on its quiet language
and the ancient rules of interface,
the same as has been done for many years
enacted here in just the last two days
A set of habits totally unseen,
scarcely imagined in the warmer seasons
emerging now, when they are needed
from water’s reservoir of hidden skills.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 22, 2019
Before today I never heard
the chittering of ice
or seen the way waves change
as water freezes —
ripples split against the frozen edge,
some rolling over,
some undulating under,
emerging preternaturally calm
but suddenly refracted
by fractured floating floes
Others have also been here
and also tossed rocks
to see if they would stay or sink,
they, too, may have been amazed
by the constant conversation
and the musical propensities of ice
Others also walk on ground
that bears years of memories,
their path can sink subtly into the past —
they can relive the former times
just as carelessly,
even as today lays down
new views and thoughts and feelings
to be revisited another time.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 13, 2019
Mist hides the distance,
rain knocks against the house,
we turn on lights against the dark and cold,
a fair-dealt day of winter
eliciting our fair response —
napping, dreaming,
drawing close to family,
seeking the inner light
each holds as beacon,
seeing the radiance
of our harmonic shine.
©Wendy Mulhern
January 5, 2019
The sun, in its soft patina,
is almost balmy, deflating the last
dirty pockets of snow.
We have shored up the larder, ready
for yet another snow dump,
another Nor’easter
It may be equinox
but these things are not divided equally.
As always, we ride along close to the ground,
feeling every bump of the season,
not seeing the longer view,
not really minding, either.
©Wendy Mulhern
March 20, 2018
Evening met us with
a momentary visitation —
some among us have expressed impatience —
too late in the season for cold,
bring on the daffodils
Others have reminded them
February has the right
to dish up anything —
snow and crocuses,
plum blossoms and deep freeze
But what difference does it make
what any of us wants —
nobody asks us anyway!
©Wendy Mulhern
February 21, 2018