The Quiet Country House

Light in the Garden...

As I drove to town today, it was very clear that Winter had come to give the earth her rest. The branches of the evergreens were white and heavy with snow. The back roads were white from side to side, and running along beside white ditches and white fields. The frozen-time between growing seasons is essential to the slow-turning of the wheel of the seasons. I know all of this, and yet it is hard to move through the long, gray days with energy and wonder. I find it necessary to remind myself that color and light will come again, and I will have my hands in the soil again. Once again, I will be encircled by blossoms and fragrance while little winged creatures dart around me.

I wrote this free-verse in my head the other night while reminding myself that I will feel the sun's warmth on my face again after Winter has had her turn at the wheel:

Light in the Garden…

I am a child of the light.
I stand with my bare feet on warm earth
and tip my head back to drink in the sweet color of the sky.

When twilight falls,

I am not stitched from darkness,
but rather woven of starlight
and the soft hush that falls
as the earth turns into the night.

I do not lurk in shadow,
rather I play and dance
like moon-glow upon the water.

Then, as Earth rolls into the morning,
my thoughts do not hide in the depths,
nor linger in the shallows,
but rise like the mist wraiths
from the surface of the lake.

I am a child of the dawn
I hear lyric in the bird song,
as I hurry to the garden, to let the sun’s warmth kiss my face.

~ Aisling, January 2007