Winter happens silent, soft and slow. It is the time of year when cold water descends and dances in the wind.
Formless and silent, it is filled with potential yet hard for the mind to grasp the dormant landscape of the season.
Personally, I love the dormant landscape that shapes the growth underneath.
I embrace the pure bliss on white — the first heavy snow that holds me white and unconnected to the world; a floating dream of kisses and snowflakes.
My senses come alive and are enraptured by the quiet world underneath the crunch, surrendering under the weight of a deep sleep.
Under a cloud of still breath, my spirit is engulfed in the beauty.
I’ve awaited this moment of heavy snow — the feel of winter that is raw and exposed by the elements of life.
A pensive witness, I am beholden by the breath of thick white powder clumped on trees and smoothing the rough landscape.
I see the much needed wetness fall gracefully while the months of drought quickly fade to another time and space.
Ahhh, I welcome this circle of winter — the unhurried rhythmic wave yielding to a slow stillness of pure bliss on white.
It lies on my heart and blankets my soul in the silence.
–Genece Hamby, 2006