Christmas Hygge

Here is my annual Christmas poem. This year it was inspired by our trip to Norway and Sweden. Hygge is translated “cozy” and describes the healthy, happy Scandinavian way of life.

Pictured is a Swedish Christmas scene and wooden figurines. Notice the long blonde braids on the girl and the woolly bread on the little Santa with his hat pulled down just over his bulbous nose.  Enjoy the poem and Happy Hygge all year long!

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Christmas Hygge

Tis the season to Hygge,
that Scandinavian happy way,
put boot prints in the snow
to gather fragrant greens.
Hang your homemade wreath
to welcome friends and fam.
It is social time, fika time
sweet treats and sips of something warm.
Cozy up and hygge on
all nyttår (new year) long!

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Winter Soulstice

This poem was inspired by a post from a friend who had a year of loss and is now celebrating the return of the light. I hope the poem speaks to you and your soul work too.

Winter Soulstice

Embrace the quiet darkness
for in it we come to better
understand ourselves.
Darkness is the time of soul work.
In it, unashamed,
we shed our rags,
standing naked,
and don a new perspective.
When the light once again shines on us,
we are more fully beautiful and whole.
Rejoice in the coming back
of the light at solstice
for we have done our work
during the gift of the dark.

 

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Tracks in the Woods

Winter really is a wonderland especially on a walk in the wood. Enjoy the poem inspired by the winter woods.

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Tracks in the snow

Stillness
it seems
like time frozen
as if nothing is moving.
All is covered in perfect snow,
the land put to bed.
Yet unseen
there is life
evidenced by the tracks
they leave.
The meandering path
of the opportunistic fox,
the crisscross highways
of deer in their thick winter coats,
hash-marks of a gaggle of turkeys,
and busy boney squirrels prints
littered with bits of pinecone
left over from his supper.
There are feather marks
of a partridge too
where she brushed the snow
on hurried take off
leaving subtle wing prints.
Look closer still
to see where the mice have scurried
and where the trees have shed
drops of snow
pockmarking the white forest floor.
And us,
quietly trudging through the woods
adding our boot tracks
to the canvas,
to the milieu of life.

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Snowy Woods

Working on poems for one of my next Nature Series chapter books on the subject of Trees. This poem was inspired by a winter walk in the woods yesterday afternoon in the fading light. Snow makes the short days of winter seem to stretch out an linger on into the moonlight. Enjoy the poem.


Snowy woods

As if placed with a spoon
and a steady hand,
the limbs of the limbs
are gently stacked with snow
outlining the curves of the tree
like an artist highlighting
his lines.
Even the white pines
like cupped fingers
hold nests of snow
in their needles.

Snow brings a hush,
a softening,
a calming
to the woods
as if the wolf no longer
chases down spring fawns,
as if twilight will not
fall into darkness,
as if time has stopped
and all is right in the world.

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Tiny Poem: Trees

Experimenting with tiny poems and prepping some tree poems for the continuation of my “Nature series” chapter books.

Tiny poem: Trees

Trees are wonder
Trees of star light
Trees our parents
shade, shelter, heat and peace

 

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Falling Water

Another poem from my trip to Norway. There were so many waterfalls. The one pictured here is called Feigefossen in Urnes.  It falls  218 meters/715 feet is the second highest uninterrupted waterfall in Norway. Enjoy the poem.
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Falling Water

so much water
the ever changing glaciers
hanging in every cranny
of this country’s mountains.
So many mountains
so many glaciers
giving up their rivers of water
falling down the mountains
into fjord after fjord.
Spectacular plunging water
taking an inhale of air
turning, churning white
after centuries of the airless crush.

Snowfall on top of snowfall
pressed into ice
pressed into crystal blue
of the glacier
then released like hounds after a rabbit
the falling water gathers
into rushing rivers
tumbling downhill
to the inland
liquid fingers of fjords,
fjords like spider veins
filling the carved valleys.
Here the water is placid
blue-green light reflected
off the remaining suspended silt
a fine, silk silt
sandpapered from the mountain rocks.
But water does not rest.
It ebbs and rises
connected to ocean
yet is not salty
fed fresh from the waterfalls.
The cycle of water is big and showy here
in the land of the Vikings,
the land of the hardy, beautiful people.
From blue behemoths
hanging in the mountains
to the rush to sea
only to evaporate
back to snow falling
in the mountains.

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Glacier

On a recent trip to Norway, I got the opportunity to hike to and touch a glacier, to feel it’s energy and ponder “who” they are. Here is the poem that resulted. Enjoy!
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Glacier

old
ragged
dirty
a floating creature
sanding down the mountains
spilling fine gray silt
and ancient water
released from the blue crush.
Glacier feels at once
patient and active,
melting, shifting, retreating.
There are long crevasses like
claw marks
on its rotting top coat.
A snow filled hole
pots the tongue
extending far enough
that we can touch it.
Glacier
a force of nature
cutting diamond facets
into mountains
making pearl valleys
and colored rivers.
The time of the glacier
is coming to an end
but they will return
in a colder time
to once again
reshape the landscape.
These giant tamers,
rock carvers,
blue gems,
marvels made from old snow
will come again
to creep down from the high places.

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