Shenandoah (or: Hunters of spring)

  We were the hunters of spring as we drove south, until we rested in the green comfort of the valley. Distant tall guardians kept the mobile homes and scattered cows safe as we climbed up the blue ridge in hope of meeting the good gods of this earth. We were higher than clouds, softer…

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The chapter of the Cardinal

One day, when all this ends, and it will one day, for everything ends, I will name it: The chapter of the Cardinal. In a crust of pale indifference its bright feathers were the embodiment of a beating frozen heart. In days to come, a tiny figurine of a red Cardinal will make my spirit…

Equinox

A night and a day did the snow swirl down as wet as the tears of my burdening desires. Equal was light on the threshold of seasons to the soon-to-be-gone dark winterly hours. The children caressed me with morning pure hunger as sun came behind heavy curtains of gray And I searched in the distance…

As children play

The night before the storm, I held the children hands as they fell asleep and looked through the window. One yellow light glowed in the dark. When we moved here, over a year ago, I used to wake up in the middle of the night, still a stranger to time, sit by the kitchen window and…

Soul temple

It has been a month. On a Friday, one moon cycle ago, I took my children to learn about sugaring maple at Tyler arboretum, but the day was frozen and the sap did not drip. We stood around the Maple tree for a while and then walked back to the classroom. Being inside, looking outside,…

The day after the snow

It was the day after the snow. Bright blue skies. Fresh dust-like snow rapidly melting as the day advanced. Fluffy snow patches hanged from the twigs, making it all look like a dry and ready to be picked mid-summer cotton field, somewhere in the upper Galilee. The creek stumbled over rocks and ice, rushing away,…

I met you, winter.

I met you, winter, at the end of all seasons. I learned your truthful taste and knew, that all my cold seasons were but sweet colorful patches of Anemone flowers and Cyclamens hiding beneath the mountain rocks. You were real, and I can call you mine, having walked the stormy days and frozen nights of…

Forty four years

Cold winter, snowy, then frozen. Then it rained. In it, I celebrate my years. The tiny island in the middle of the Brandywine river has the shape of a golden heart, blighted by frost. On the river banks grew Sycamore trees, their white bright branches rise and twist against heavy metal skies. I set next…

Black moon over the valley

Ice spread like countless diamonds on fir leaves and trees branches, shimmering in the cold sunlight. As I moved closer, I heard the music it played, tiny screeching sounds, as it invisibly yet inevitably melted down to the earth. Approaching my birthday, I look back and see how this year has shaken me to the…