I love the way the morning sun touches my hands and face on a frosty-cold early spring morning in the Keweenaw. There is something deeply elemental about the first stages of the resurrection of spring's riot of life from winter's long, cold sleep.
Deep Cold, Dark Days
Bright and sharp, the morning light,
Severs bonds with dark of night,
Carving shadow as a thief.
Daylight liquid bas relief
Images, in frost and snow -
Living sculptures, come and go:
Frozen forms that writhe and twist,
Through the dusty, wintry mist.
Bright horizon fires arise,
Dance the fleeting halls of skies,
Lancing through the frigid air,
Banishing the shadows there.
Clouds afire with red and gold,
Warm the winter's long, deep cold,
And their penetrating rays,
Kindle life to fire our days.