Half-Way Hotsprings december 2008

watching, for a moment, as the snow takes the form of the wind
(leaping) from a laden pine tree
a sworl, powder dust arching in on itself
into a brief formation of furrowed lines
and then falling loose to the ground

the wind masked again to our eyes
buffeting against our faces,
heading north up the valley while we ski south towards the highway, catching brief glimpses of sunshine through the clouds, wondering at dinner,
the wind become noise and draft again. Down on the highway some of us stop to look over the bridge to the lake and the peaks beyond, the sun's passing brings rich red and pinks to the peaks.

Christmas Poem

As we walk amongst the falling snow
Birch trees and Hawthorn bushes holding what snow they can,
cracked arms against the dimly outlined hills
our footsteps swallowed by the falling snow,
our mouths moving but silent through the snow

Our hours find each other until the hour, our hour, is still
like turning a page to find that the next is blank
and with our footsteps, our words will be swallowed too
all the glowing embers we've harboured within
will be taken like footsteps by the snow.

We talk softly, becoming indistinct through the snow
our eyelashes blinking back the flakes
falling melted like tears down our cheeks
taking some of the embers, some of the charcoal
- faint black streaks down our cheeks
falling with the snow

Figures walking along a snowy road at dusk
Trees bearing snow crooked against the hills
while next to them a silent river flowing south
snow flakes falling white on their toques and jackets
darkness grows, the snow takes their footsteps
and they take their feet,
each illuminated by the dull glow of embers their eyes
like dim lanterns they gather back to the house
- the footsteps are gone
our group has vanished, taking their embers with them.