I do not believe I have ever experienced a holier cathedral than the woods while it is snowing…
I find snow to be both romantic and religious, gorgeous and glorious. I feel like a child on a snow day from school and a traveler on a sacred pilgrimage all at once. When it is snowing, I can’t remain indoors; I am drawn to be in it.
From a leaden desolate sky drift
these weightless stars spun of
air and water
that disappear on touch
I might have dreamt them up
these gossamer prisms
Though I cannot hold them
they press one against the other
lovers each to all until
they tuck right into the sides of earth,
like a starched clean sheet
on a birthing bed.
|(Here is the actual inspiration behind the poem) Photograph by the author: Sheri Lindner|
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