To come to winter
The trees bend, buckle and break under the weight of fresh snow
My legs bend, buckle and break
Under the accumulated snows of
Of a richly raw and resonant life
Beauty in this moment –
Late flowering Swan Song beauty – of this time
Gifts of this waning phase – both of this individuated year and of accumulated years.
Sunlight glinting on frost kissed whiteness – blinding in its glory.
The white of eldership and of winter.
The unexpected beauty of maturated cycles, spirals in the frost
Glorious warming sunshine of graced feminine beauty – unexpected visitor in the waning shadow year
This year – this life – this sun – this snow
This beautiful love – late flowering
And all the more precious and appreciated as a consequence.
At Cowley Manor Gloucestershire