Warmth on a Winter Day
by Sinéad Tyrone
Snow falls light as mist,
colors sky and landscape grey,
hides what lies
on the river’s opposite side,
obscures the sun’s
heat and light.
Shorebirds - bufflehead,
mallard, tundra swan -
fish ice-laden waters,
tuck into themselves on shore
to preserve warmth.
Garden bench offers empty respite,
aches for fulfillment;
flowers sleep under soil blankets,
sundials and statuary
disguise themselves under camouflage snow.
I enter through your garden gate,
walk winding paths
to your sacred haven,
color on walls,
music in air,
comfort for a soul
locked in too much grey.
Winter fades
as I walk past florals,
drink in your flowing spirit,
medicine for my artist’s soul,
sisters from other countries
joined by a need
to express what lies within.
Schedules call.
You have paintings to finish,
I am headed for the Falls,
ice covered,
frozen glory
my camera longs to capture.
I walk your garden path
once more,
this time in retreat,
buoyed by your camaraderie,
the world no longer grey,
my heart no longer low.
