A Wintry Flight of Fancy

January 24, 2014 / roughwighting / 30 Comments

http://lichtyears.wordpress.com/

I wake my daughter at 7 a.m. and exclaim: “It’s snowing. We have to go for a walk!” I’m spending the weekend with her and her young family, who are hushed into dreams. But I can’t let her sleep and miss this fun.

A best friend would turn over in bed and fall back to sleep. But a daughter rises and brushes her teeth with her eyes closed, puts on her warmest woolens, and trudges out in the air-brushed world of a winter wonderland with her mother.

The air sparkles as the soft snow cascades onto the open land. We find the path that leads to the woods and listen to the crunch of our boots on new-fallen snow atop a hard crust from past storms. I laugh and skip through the white delight; my daughter grimaces and tells me I’m crazy. She’s not awake yet, but I know she’ll appreciate all of this soon.

I stick out my tongue and taste the snow as if it’s candy. She shakes her head in disgust and walks on. I shut my mouth and decide to wait until her soul awakens and she thanks me for this time.

The air rushes through the pine trees that are iced like a wedding cake. The sound of the wind through the branches gives me a brain massage. I am so happy I think I’ll burst into song until I remember my pledge to keep quiet. But my daughter’s head snaps up, snow sticking to her surprised face. Muffled hoof beats get louder and louder, until the source of it is upon us.

“Whitey!” she exclaims. I stare at the two-winged horse in utter astonishment. When my daughter was young, I’d tuck her in bed with stories of a fairy wonderland, where the snow always fell like diamonds, where elves played hopscotch with snow imps, and where Whitey, the snow-white fairy horse, flew with the wind to find little girls to ride on her back.

I look upon this mirage with awe, but my daughter is not fazed. She’s always believed that Whitey exists.

“Ladies,” Whitey says in a soft female tone as she lowers her head, encouraging us both to slip on her back. I hold on to her stiff white mane, while my daughter circles her arms around my waist.

“Imagination is based on reality,” the horse’s feminine voice whispers toward me as we rise into the white polka dot sky. “Imagination is a free ride toward joy.”

I close my eyes and smile as I hear my daughter’s voice ring out: “Yippee!”

The Answers Appear All Around

December 20, 2013August 13, 2017 / roughwighting / 25 Comments

Christmas, poem, town, Tiburon, worshipping, spirits

Photo by Eddie Frank, Gas Lamp Productions

In my little town, the lights sparkle

Like diamond dust thrown in the wind

Lifted by souls of the living

Who search for the gift of pure joy.

Like diamond dust thrown in the wind

Questions fly to neighbors near and far

Who search for the gift of pure joy

While admiring the view of the world.

Questions fly to neighbors near and far

Are you happy, or sad, or just neutral?

While admiring the view of the world

Where the cardinal and pelican play.

Are you happy or sad, or just neutral

Living in towns, cities and farms

Where the cardinal and pelican play

With wings full of wisdom and grace.

Photo by Carla Bradley Evans

Living in towns, cities, and farms

Worshipping spirits and stars from above

With wings full of wisdom and grace

The answers appear all around.

Photo by Susan Licht

Worshipping spirits and stars from above

While snow dances or sun sets with a splash

The answers appear all around

If we listen to trumpeting truths.

While snow dances or sun sets with a splash

From sea to shining sea

If we listen to trumpeting truths

The message can give us all peace.

From sea to shining sea

We embrace the spirits who soar

The message can give us all peace

Love and joy are in each part of us.

Happy Holidays to you, and may peace and joy abound in your life.

SNOW FALLS SILENTLY

December 21, 2012December 21, 2012 / roughwighting / 39 Comments

Snow falls as silently as stardust on a bright clear night.

Stardust covers the houses and the trees and the ground and you –

if you’re out on a star-filled night.

The sound is a hush.

A hush as haunting and beautiful as a

mother’s lullaby to her newborn babe.

It’s the same sound of snow falling on oak and dale,

on lampposts and driveway, on forest and plain.

But the snowflakes are exposed by their very nature;

they are white and pristine on a background of pewter sky.

The snow shines like elegant moving polka dots

floating with the grace of a thousand ballerinas.

It’s the dance of nature’s beauty,

of the grace of life and death,

of love from the spirit of the universe.

Snow falls silently so we can hear

our own delight at nature’s spectacle.

Snow falls silently so we can accept

our life, and death,

on nature’s terms.

HAPPY HOLIDAYS TO MY ROUGHWIGHTING READERS

FROM MY HOUSE – TO YOURS

Song of Sorrow

January 20, 2012December 12, 2012 / roughwighting / 11 Comments

Early morning walk down the snow-filled street

No cars, no people, nobody but my dog and me

Tiny white flakes fall like dust on our hair

The crunch of my boots follows us into the silence.

Trees stand like white-haired sentries, watching

And then the plaintive song of a lonely bird –

One syllable high, second one low, over and over

Like a call, a question, a cry.

Its mate is lost, in the snow, in the woods

Gone, as the bird calls and waits, calls and waits

We trudge on, leaving the song of sorrow

Behind us.

Loud as Snow Hitting Bare Branch

December 30, 2011December 30, 2011 / roughwighting / 12 Comments

As the snow fell like rain

soft and fast and serious

my family of four sat in front of the fire

warmed by the presence of each other.

Soft and fast and serious

our talk ran from weather to food to walks

warmed by the presence of each other

the sight outside was miraculous.

Our talk ran from weather to food to walks

and my grown-up son winked at me

the sight outside was miraculous

so he suggested a brisk walk in the woods.

And my grown-up son winked at me

as I pulled on heavy jeans and a warm coat

so he suggested a brisk walk in the woods

just mom and son braving the storm.

As I pulled on heavy jeans and a warm coat

I felt the frosty air and fierce snow billow round

just the mom and son braving the storm

walking into woods that quietly accepted this gift.

I felt the frosty air and fierce snow billow round

as our talk swirled round us likewise

walking into woods that quietly accepted this gift

of silence loud as snow hitting bare branch.

As our talk swirled round us likewise

my son told me his thoughts and dreams

of silence loud as snow hitting bare branch

of love and fears and theology.

My son told me his thoughts and dreams

as we crunched through tender white ground

of love and fears and theology

of a young man searching for answers to life.

As we crunched through the tender white ground

soft and fast and furious

a young man searching for answers to life

warmed by the presence of each other.