Winter tends to be a time of contemplation, meditation, and hibernation for me. The latter making the other two possible.
When not working this means creating, reading, writing, and thinking while gazing out a window in silence… glorious priceless silence… something that can be hard to find in this fast-paced, social media, techno-crazy world.
This poem is based on a recent morning in my life, and I decided to share it in case any of you are finding it hard to stay in touch with your inner child.
I Found Her On One Frigid Morn
What do I see this frigid morn?
A sky so blue it seems forlorn.
The snow so white, as if to blind.
A sun so bright it seems unkind.
The trees are frozen stiff with frost.
Their brittle branches bare the cost.
The birds perform an air ballet,
from tree to tree they spend their day.
In window seat I watch awhile.
They do their best to make me smile.
But there’s no time to sit and cheer,
there’s wood to chop and snow to clear.
I don my gloves, my scarf, my hat,
my boots, my coat, yes… all of that,
and out I venture dressed in layers
of hope, and faith, and summer prayers.
The winter whispers to my bones
to make its frozen secrets known.
It blows its breath with icy grin
across the landscape of my skin.
It sneaks its fingers through my veins
and tells me I should not complain.
While I’m outside in winter’s realm
I’m at the mercy of its helm.
To think that when I was a child
I lived outside so free and wild.
I never felt the winter’s chill
on skating rinks or sledding hills.
Where did that winter magic go?
It is still here, and this I know.
It’s only lost from heart and soul
if I let my heart and soul grow old.
The childhood me is still inside
and does not want to run and hide.
She needs to feel the winter joy
like every girl and every boy.
So instead of chopping wood I go
into the yard of pillowed snow.
I lay down on its quilted bed.
It hugs my arms, my legs, my head.
And when I rise I turn and greet
the snowy angel at my feet.
She’s grown so tall since last we met.
How long it’s been I do forget.
I hear her voice so sweet and young.
I feel her words roll off my tongue.
“All is not lost, be not afraid
to keep some childhood promises made.”
To not grow old before my time.
To not give up on poem and rhyme.
No matter what, through joy and strife,
I am the artist of my life.
I vow this day to make a start
to be the winner of my heart.
To live my life in all its glory.
To be the pen of my own story.
Each day will be a new blank page
on which this life will set the stage.
It’s not too late to make the choice
to speak my truth with my own voice.
So I cast my adult worries free
with all the negativity.
I see now how my eyes should see.
I can still be who I should be.
The girl I lost was found today.
The girl I found is here to stay.
I promise her this lofty goal,
to live a life that feeds my soul.
The birds now beckon with their play
and I applaud their air ballet.
I sit and cheer. Such joy I reap.
The wood can wait. The snow will keep.
The trees are dressed in elegant frost.
Such simple beauty knows no cost.
I stay outside and bask awhile.
I smile a tear. I cry a smile.
What do I see this frigid morn?
A sky so blue it seems reborn.
The snow so white, as if designed.
A sun so bright, so warm, so kind.
by T. M. Lehtinen (that’s me)
Even though it’s a challenge sometimes I choose to see the world through pink coloured glasses.
I choose to think pink because it makes my heart giggle, and that’s the simple and honest truth of it. Thinking Pink is about staying young at heart, no matter how old I get.
Do something today that makes your heart giggle… and smile. It doesn’t have to be pink… it just has to make you happy.
Be the artist of your life.
Create it. Live it. Love it.
Thanks so much for reading, and until next time…
keep on keepin’ on!