The bare bones of trees scrape against the sky Heavy and cold, holding memories of snow The sun disappears a little earlier each night And I let out a breath, let my old self go It’s heavy and cold, holding memories of snow I can feel the year hurtling toward its end And I let out a breath, let my old self go I’m trying to see winter as a friend I can feel the year hurtling toward its end Another cycle of seasons in this one finite life I’m trying to see winter as a friend Patient and present as a midwife Another cycle of seasons in this one finite life Could I gather the gifts and walk into the dark Patient and present as a midwife Waiting to see what new life is born? Could I gather the gifts and walk into the dark? The sun disappears a little earlier each night Waiting to see what new life is born Where bare bones of the trees scrape against the sky
🖊️ (Belated) NovPAD Week 3 Update - 2 out of 7 days?
This is the annual point of NovPAD where things just sort of fizzle out thanks to Thanksgiving and work deadlines and generally losing momentum. It is what it is! But for Week 3’s Form Friday (cyclical forms) I finally tackled a pantoum.
It’ll need a little polish to feel done, but there’s something there. For those of us well north of the equator, November feels like hurtling headfirst into the long dark. Consider this a little poem of preparation.1
I already have a week 4 poem to share before the month is out! Here’s your annual reminder that NovPAD is not a contest. Whether you write 30 poems or 2, you did the thing! 🌟
1
Did I just accidentally write the bookend/companion poem to this one?
I love how so much of the hope of this poem is hidden in its structure. Just beautiful. Winter as midwife. That will stick with me.
Winter as a midwife! What an engaging perspective!