Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Out my window

Every morning, I get to watch the progression of winter from birth through to death. I can't show you. Let me just tell you about it, ok?

Out my window

Nothing holds your light
like the sun on winter’s breath
dyeing ruddy hills
impossible shades
drawn from imaginary palettes
streaked over moon-white canvas
refreshed by the ice witch’s
nightly cough
bitter moisture
to each sparkling twig

Rachel Westfall
January 6, 2010


Fat Arse said...

Beautiful poem Rachel,

Let me try...

Out my window there does lie a dormant tree that reaches toward the sky... alone and lifeless, frozen in time; its branches frantically fighting the whipping wind ... until... snap, snap, snap, some of them are no more!

p.s. BTW meant to thank you for sending so much traffic my way a few posts back.

RachelW said...

Fat Arse, we've had so much wind here lately, I'm reminded of Manitoba. Yeah, those frozen branches sure do like to snap, snap, snap! You're welcome for the traffic; thanks for the morbid laugh.

Karen said...

Rachel, your words paint beautiful pictures in the mind's eye. No other canvas needed.

Rikkij said...

Rach-it sounds like a still night. The best kind of Northern cold. lovely pic in my head. ~rick

BloggerMouth said...

I am jealous of the view you get outside of your window. No such winters here in a tropical country but hey... there's poetry. Great post!

Anonymous said...

I don't know why you said you couldn't show it, as this piece gives an image just fine. That notion of the ice witch... normally people talk about Old Man Winter or Jack Frost or whoever as this hoary, sinister guy with a beard, but thinking about just a haggard, crystalline old woman with bronchitis makes much more sense. Given the quality of winter we've been having the last month, her hand is certainly in the mix...

Anyway. Beautiful. :)

christopher said...

The Ice Witch

I gave the ice witch
a ticket to Bermuda.
her eyes flashed. She stroked
my nose with frostbite, showing
me the gratitude
she should, considering.
She's packing her bags right now,
ready to scoot south.

Char said...

Really like this, Rachel.

Fireblossom said...

oOo, the Ice Witch! Please tell her I've got something for that cough, if she wants to come around and tap on my kitchen window. ;-)

joaquin carvel said...

i concur - you've shown me more than any camera could. wonderful piece.

Woman in a Window said...

She, ice witch, does lace my hair these days, huh, huh, heavy breath, as heavy as ice itself.


Guess who said...

Outside my window, I watch the wonderful bird angels as they eat winter-food that I leave for them.

Outsid my window I think of you as I watch the beautiful birds in the winter-sun...

*Shine-On* Beautiful ;)

K.Lawson Gilbert said...

Another poetic triumph!
love these lines:
streaked over moon-white canvas
refreshed by the ice witch’s
nightly cough

colleen said...

Lovely! I know the scene and you translated it so well.

Diane Vogel Ferri said...

To me winter is much more inspiring and poignant than summer for us poets. A beautiful poem as always.

RachelW said...

Oh, my. I am so sorry I have not kept up better in responding to you all. Thank you so much for your comments! It means so much to me to have this feedback from you all. And Christopher, I'm quite determined to sneak into her luggage! :) Bermuda? Hmm...