Feel the Year Pass

Feel the Year Pass

How do I feel the passing of the year,
When winter locks our world in iced embrace?
How can I trace the warm path of a tear,
When all of my tears are frozen in place?
There'll be no alarm in the crystal air,
Father Time leaves no footprints in the snow.
The stately evergreens really don't care,
And have absolutely no place to go.
The silent clouds sail serenely along,
Graceful galleons across starlit skies.
The birds all have colds, and can't sing a song;
The man in the moon smiles, but he tells lies.
How do I notice, am I really smart?
I feel the year pass, in my beating heart...

Mick McKellar
December 2015

How else would I notice, if not the clock, maybe...or the TV?

Mick

Rolling of the Year

Rolling of the Year

I but watched from afar,
the rolling of the year.
I could not touch those who touched,
those who saw,
those who heard,
the arc of life I intersected.

I drifted through the year,
a wind-wave through brown grass.
I followed softly winding fields.
I read the rainfall from mighty clouds,
that washed soft, silken dust,
from limb and leaf.

I sealed a promise with the soil,
the residue of years,
upon the bones
of decades of death;
of life and death.
Voiceless, I silently sang
the simple song of ages,
to mark time's purpose and flight.

I cried when youth departed,
when passion's fire grew cooler,
when harvest touched my heart,
when winnowing wind laid bare my soul.
And I could but watch from afar,
the rolling of the year.

Mick McKellar
December 2015

As the end of the year rolls by, isolated, I watch from afar and wonder at its passage...

Mick

Solitary Candle

Solitary Candle

Among the bleak and gusty squalls of snow,
A solitary candle glowed, so bright
It shimmered on the shifting drifts below,
And warmed the frozen desert of the night.
Once, flickering against the frosty clime,
Its lively light pierced deep into the gloom;
It softly touched my eye one blessed time,
And saved me from a dark and icy doom.
The dancing, wee flame led me to your door,
Where I stood shaking, stunned, and mystified:
Before I knocked you opened it, and more,
You took my hand and welcomed me inside.
Your welcoming smile made my shaking cease,
Aglow with life and warmth, with love and peace.

Mick McKellar
December 2015

To those who wander in the cold and dark, a solitary candle is a star.

Mick

Silent Shadows

Silent Shadows

When flick’ring candles brighten window panes,
Framed with silver, icy Christmas lace,
And golden, liquid light on candy canes,
Beams forth, reflected on each tiny face.
Small children peer through windows rimed with cold,
And seek the ancient visitor in red;
A jolly elf as young as Spring, yet old
And wise enough to wait till they’re in bed.
Outside, cold winds deposit snow in drifts,
As moonlight cruises, swift across the scene.
Inside the house, small children dream of gifts,
Reflecting lights, red, yellow, blue, and green.
Their hearts call forth, make magic come and go,
Silent shadows upon the fallen snow.

Mick McKellar
December 2015

The legend lives on—in my mind, at least…

Mick

Hear, Say

Hear, Say

I didn't want to stay indoors,
And ventured out to do some chores.
I love this festive time of year,
When friendly words fall on my ear.

The streets, festooned with festive sights,
And multi-colored Christmas lights;
All bravely showed their bright displays,
To color winter's whites and grays.

The other shoppers shuffling by,
Sometimes would look me in the eye;
And should I hold their gaze awhile,
They'd summon such a dazzling smile.

A few, of course, looked cross and grim,
Yet, never caused the lights to dim.
And if their jaundiced eyes caught mine,
I let my brightest smile just shine.

Though often they're a noisy bunch,
The kids were quiet, on a hunch
That if they didn't gripe and whine,
Santa's generous light might shine...

I wandered long, from store to store,
And found I loved it even more,
When folks whose smiles were warm and free,
With "Merry Christmas!" Greeted me.

I also loved to hear the phrase,
A pleasant "Happy Holidays!"
Other folks began our meetings,
With a joyous "Season's Greetings!"

Later, as at home I pondered,
Greetings proffered while I wandered,
Smiling as my journey ended,
For never once was I offended.

Mick McKellar
December 2015

I grew up during a time when saying, "Happy holidays" was an all-inclusive alternative to "Merry Christmas!" Folks used the phrase to break the repetitiousness of having only one way to offer good wishes. It was not the pontifical, legalistic, inoffensive, lawyer-recommended, and safe holiday phrase it has become. Christmas means different things to different people. So, however they wish to say it, their wishes for my happiness and blessings of the season are welcome. It has never altered the joy I feel at Christmas.

Mick

Asleep in My Head

Asleep in My Head

My tea grew cold, as I dozed in my chair;
The windows were dark and the hour wee.
Thoughts that I’d juggled were no longer there,
Yet I struggled to call them back to me.
The bulk of my fingers had gone to sleep,
And my eyelids had gained a lot of weight.
My hair looked like it had been buried, deep
Underground, in an ancient packing crate.
Tired eyes tried to focus upon the screen,
Of my desktop computer, patiently
Awaiting input, machine to machine:
For fatigued emotions inside of me,
Had silently crept to their little bed;
And left me alone, asleep in my head.

Mick McKellar
December 2015

There was I, head cradled on my left hand, valiantly endeavoring to remain conscious long enough to finish a poem about trying to stay awake to finish writing a poem. Yet, I was left alone, asleep in my head.

Mick

Glimpse of an Angel

Glimpse of an Angel

I stood, back to a window, when my eye
Glimpsed movement, and I stood there, shivering.
My muscles shuddered violently—did I
See the shadow of a bright angel’s wing?
In an instant, I turned, and tried to see
What caused that flashing shadow to pass by.
Pewter sky and milky snow greeted me,
And evergreens that whispered with a sigh.
Here and there touches of color so bright,
Glimmered through hazy clouds of blowing snow,
And promised to cheer up the coming night,
With their twinkles, their sparkles, and their glow.
And though I cannot prove it, I’m happy
To have a Christmas angel visit me!

Mick McKellar
December 2015

We all see apparent furtive movement and shadows from the corners of our eyes. Who is to say it might not be an angel or two, just watching over us?

Mick

Child of the Earth

Child of the Earth

Lost in a misty, dark forest,
And far from the shores of the lake,
I sought a way home without rest,
Uncertain which path I should take.

Trees welcomed me to the deep glen,
Their green silence offered me peace;
But I wandered far beyond ken,
As though led forward by caprice.

Until there opened before me,
A woodland cathedral’s grand nave,
And I found myself, completely
Alone in a living enclave.

I felt all my troubles lifted,
By trees' ancient wisdom caressed;
And sensed that I had been gifted,
With the grace of nature expressed.

My careworn spirit was lifted;
My heart given global rebirth.
A soul once so greatly gifted,
Is always a child of the Earth.

Mick McKellar
December 2015

I’ve found that a simple walk in the woods can lead to revelations of wonder. Treat your Christmas tree with care and respect.

Mick

When I Rested

When I Rested

With the unquenchable zeal
Of a passionate lover,
I searched both width and breadth
Of my universe.
For a flood of wonder,
A river of love...
Exploring even the dark and bitter shore
Where lies curiosity;
And found not a single drop of peace.

I struggled on, though faint heart
Bid me lie down,
And cast the battle upon the lawn;
In the sun,
On the soft green grass,
To rest and share the light.

Here, I did not find the answer,
The answer was there to see:
I need not struggle to find inner peace;
When I rested,
It found me.

Mick McKellar
December 2015

Just some thoughts on the proverbial search for inner peace.

Mick

Shiver Together

Shiver Together

When a winter morning dons a grey cloak,
And heavy clouds melt into slushy rain,
The air smells of languid and soggy smoke,
And frigid fingers spark shivers again.
When gelid almost-snow touches my face,
The cold liquid quickly drips down my skin,
Soaks into my collar, leaving no trace
Of the chilling effect it has within.
Stiff fingers grow numb from the flowing cold,
Despite the thick, heavy glove on each hand.
My coat is not warm, or I’m growing old,
And my frozen toes make it hard to stand.
Yet, I’ll endure this bleak, chilly weather,
If you and I can shiver together.

Mick McKellar
December 2015

It seems such a short time ago that winter’s cold fingers could never touch me…

Mick