Monday, January 14, 2013


The land of no winter was where childhood existed for me. We used to bundle in heavy coats when the temperature hit fifty. Our hands knew no mittens and our faces thought scarves were for show.
My sophomore year in college a move to Northern Arizona changed my life forever. It was the worst winter they had seen in many years. The snow stacked six feet against the first floor of the dorm. I learned about winter boots, layers and...most of all...glistening.

The way that cold turns vapor into crystals presents a beauty beyond compare.

Today is so cold and has perfect humidity.
The turkeys came in at six am to be fed.
Their backs glistened with the frost from their roost in the nearby trees.

The front lawns glisten with a coat of slight white- or is it clear- over the browns and greens that predict their future.

And then the glisten begins to move.
Slowly flakes of glisten begin to flutter down.
Small, almost undetectable, pieces of ice
float to the ground in the bright sun
a sun so bright, but no warmth to melt.

Memories of sandstorms feel my past.
One could feel the perfect air, listen and know that one was going to come.
Now it is the same with glistening.
These are the day for happiness on the Ground Level.

1 comment:

Jane said...

This is a very lovely post, Janette. I could almost feel the clear cold air. Maybe now that you're retired you can find more time for your poetic side...I like it!