Friday, 25 January 2013

Simple Pleasures and "The Robin and The Snow"


The dark grey days of January seem long and often gloomy, when frozen bare trees appear like etchings against a pewter sky, street-lamps glow orange for more hours each day then the weak sun, and biting rain, freezing fog or melting snow dampens the good intentions we had at new year when we were still buoyed by the high spirits of festive season.
But I made a promise this year. I promised myself that however grey the weather was, even if my mood matched the low clouds, to see beauty in winter. Marvel at the patterns of ice on water and windscreen, make the most of days snowed-in with books I always complain I never get the chance to read, and relish reflections in flooded fields. I promised myself that I would remember that every day the season progresses, changes. Bulbs and shoots break through the soil beneath their blanket of frost-torn leaves and snow, buds swell and catkins lengthen. 
Butterflies hung in a sheltered corner of the shed wait patiently for spring.
So I shall do the same, I shall take a quiet moment to sit here by the window on a sunny afternoon, hot cup of tea steaming in my hands, admiring cobweb-thread fairy hammocks strung with Tiffany diamonds and a pale yellow primrose peering from the frozen snow drift, to listen to the robin sweetly sing, as the sun sinks in its lemonade sky, and wait patiently for spring. 

The past week has been one of snow and ice; the principle subject of every conversation on every street corner revolved around the cold weather, and the difficulties of travelling in winter conditions. Inspired by a snow-fall at dusk, I composed the following poetic piece, titled "The Robin and The Snow"

The Robin and The Snow
As the snow falls, layering icy crystal over icy crystal, all is quiet, like all life is waiting, paused.
Like the moment one walks into a darkened room, and holds ones breathe in fear.
Fear of disturbing the silence and waking the dust.
Only the robin's song drifts on the frozen air, only his brave melodic notes
provide the score for the snowflake ballet.
The dancers are more than they seem, alone they have an intricate beauty,
enrapturing, poetic.
But as they join, swirl and drift they take on another form, a muting, 
smothering deathly form whose beauty is only surface deep. 
And yet still through the crystalline air, the sweet colourful notes of the brave robins song
weave between the falling flakes like an antidote to the winters wrath, 
a soothing melting melody to warm the heart.

2 comments:

  1. Beautiful and inspirational!

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  2. Thank You! I am glad you enjoyed it! More of my work is available to read on my website here: http://www.sophieco.co.uk/wild-articles.php or here: http://www.sophieco.co.uk/writing.php if you are interested!

    Keep eyes open to the beauty,
    SML

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