Morning

Every morning

I wake and watch

the sun slowly make it's way

over the mountain.

As it crests,

I am blinded by it's intensity.

Today there is no sun,

no sunny mountain view.

Today, there is the gentlest snowfall.

There is a deep quiet

that comes with the snowfall.

Like prayer, it calms the soul.

Everything seems to slow down.

The snow whispers " Watch me."

Early Morning

I love the early morning

when the birds are nestled

deep in the bushes

dogs lie beside their sleeping masters

steam rises off the rooftops

in the distance lies the landscape

blue, black and slate grey

a big cloud

hangs nestled between the mountains

with a canvas of the lightest blue behind it

no sun to change the cool palette

like the birds

and the dogs

and the masters

it lays sleeping

below the unseen horizon.

Snow days

Writing

Language and a love of the word unites us.

Across the country, across the world

we are all tied to each other

in our fundamental needs and desires;

freedom, love, shelter from the storms.

In Egypt , her people shout out in cries for freedom.

In France Alex writes about the insanely rich.

In Colorado Peter writes about the beauty of the mountains.

In Concord my friend writes about living from scan to scan.

Today I found a poem written by a student to ease my broken heart.

We write our fears, our loves, our passions.

We write ourselves out of the darkness and into the light.

In writing we connect with the universal spirit.