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|Mind looking at mind looking at mind|
Heart of winter
Throwing down frames, logging hours in the studio, and giving in to snowbound quiet, I see drawings flow.
The rectangular motif continues to surprise me with its variations of meaning: first a container for thoughts, then a boundary for growth, and now, somehow, it consumes my identity. This is the most potent meme I have encountered and I intend to abandon myself to giving it voice.
|Patience in winter, growth in spring.|
Sky blue freedom
A trail in the snow
Round trip to the city to hear jazz vocals
with my daughter and join family for dinner.
my attention turns inward;
naturally and without effort
awareness settles down.
nature takes attention,
and I miss that
Dialog with the snow
things poking up
big round mounds
fresh white layers
covering older grayer
from every gutter.
Arctic winds demand full attention on the walk home.
Wool cap pulled below my ears, I let the focus deepen.
|Singular in temperature|
|Act II: High Winds|
|Snow shaped by wind|
|This winter's history read from the yard: multiple nor'easter strata, each storm now compressed to a thick granular layer, plow leavings pushed into mounds marking the road, buried toys, frozen footprints, piles of deer poop. broken icicle pieces, wind carved sculptures, snow drifts across the driveway, a shoveled trail to the barn, broken branches, sweeping vistas of pure white, grey sprinkles of fireplace ash (supposed to give traction and speed melting), the tops of carrots left out as food, sledding runs, and barely visible remnants of the snow fort; all these recently familiar features, unmoving below thirty-two degrees but rapidly impermanent above.|
|Finding spring in the longing for spring.|
|Not resisting the cold|
|The river of ice and snow that is my driveway|
shadow and light
in late winter sun
no matter how hard
I can't keep cold
and the frame releases