Moments in a Blizzard

Windswept sky designs landmark,

the world is being blanketed by that force

greater than our own,

a magical parade of Nature’s wrath,

in the simplest manner of beauty.

 

Oh her strength apparent

inside the wonder of it all,

the winter storm,

a blizzard upon our discontent,

perhaps we might fly away.

 

Lost inside this forever cycle

our lives are equally drawn

by a static probability

of scant survival in the throes

of a woeful condition.

 

Step inside the winds,

that bury this frozen memory,

covering up our sorrows

so there might be a new desire,

a passion to understand.

 

A realization,

recognizing there is an after-life

to the sparkle – once

no longer remains

inside a youthful dream.

 

There inside the wealth of our

humanity

exists a welcome change,

that ever resilient testimony,

suggests we are all ready,

 

already walking again,

this might provocative winds allow.

 


© Thom Amundsen 1/2020

Twilight Conscience

Swift breeze is nonchalant to a unique settings.

Silent hour forever in the mind of an observer,

a starry horizon will stretch a furthest minute

to give benefit to psychic appraisal of reason.

 

Stand awake in time a twilight enhanced howl

whereby our lives will in natural light return.

For the moment we might meditate the night

with sudden revelation – planetary alignment.

 

I would if may suggest my life in the balance

would hold truth grateful such wires insomnia

extends my intellectual prowess that imagines

in a delusion. A realist, perhaps only questions.

 

In the quiet of my home, would change a season

As the wind screams my name in idyllic reason


© Thom Amundsen 2019

A Silent Snow

It’s okay, he said.

The snow began to fall,

and he wondered about the natural course of things.

While tucked away in the corner,

reflections of life

carried on,

a conversation between two lovers,

innocent to the eyes around,

simply enthralled

she said with a smile,

and he

sort of moved in.

 

They hadn’t really experienced life yet,

thought the onlooker,

his coffee now calling

a lovely segue into creating a moment

for himself.

 

Little boy walks right up to his knee

stares with doe eyes,

and the writer has to

make a choice,

usher him away or smile,

and a voice beckons and the little boy

retreats to dad,

letting peace again consume

the quiet man behind the eyes,

waiting for the storm,

waiting to watch the snow fall,

like a memory may not remind

the immediacy of Winter

a nearing charm.

 

In the middle of the night

he might wake to find

his heart beating

at a rapid rate,

a telling reminder of another time,

when snow fell from branches

like angelic boughs,

a plop to the sunlit morning,

the cars drifting along the avenue,

in some remarkable ceremony,

his time to say good-by,

his time to wonder why.

 

Sitting now, the snow has begun to fall,

so many moments like tonight … a gentle breeze.

Autumn Sunrise

Picture silent beauty of the fallen

cascades over night in morning’s fresh dew

Would we lives would suspend among such few

swept in a seasonal breeze unspoken

 

While lives do merit certain ambience

having understood time in element

sweet farewell of arid temperament

with knowledge shelter a vortex of chance

 

In morning humanity know each day

means a spiritual guide wills a solace

swift is the timing of fortunate Grace

will soon a blossoming might lead our way

 

Demands seek urgency’s mortality

Cycle of life bestow such is beauty

Look Closely If You Can

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At a quick glance we might call sweet shelter

the homes hold hope and prayer and a safety

for everyone inside, security

the temps suggest a different manner.

 

Across the city another enclave

of soul seeker human condition airs

indifference as a blizzard ensnares

their grip on surviving a city cave.

 

Two worlds drawn as one to both be witness

a record breaking month of snow fallen

on a city left homeless and sullen

while neighborhoods are defined by address.

 

Look closely at the eyes quiet release

of pain of sorrow of some hope for peace.

Winter In Minnesota

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Something refreshing a pristine winter.

fresh sunlit  snow touch silent runner’s eye

layered across a landscape painted sky,

we might let troubles risen disappear

 

if in this moment, trees become statues

dignified pose, a carnival in ice.

shaded sphere of heat will nearby suffice

light up a runner’s path – dawn guided views

 

We seek knowledge of a heartiness here

Gitchi-Gami, shadows quiet weakness

Inside the brilliance of a lovely dress

soft upon the runners, sweeping past fear.

 

Trails are designed, hold favor to imprint

lasting lover’s scene, a stepping stone stint.

 

 

 

 

While Winter Whisper

Oh to play with the notion of thought,

to understand the reasoning behind

purpose, attitude, maybe the inspiration,

we all do seek when lost in the shuffling

nature of the season.

 

Oh, when winter will remark upon

a simple morning frost, to make allowance

for concept, to create, maybe instinctive,

our bodies, our selves, intermingle

with the true meaning of life,

when swept inside the tenets of an arctic

breeze, chilling and responsible, ease.

 

Once, while a child, ‘I watched in solemnity,’

his body laid into the cold, dark earth,

forever to be walked upon, glanced nearby,

thought of in the chilly absence of life.

We all stepped tenderly away, him alone,

the music did continue to play,

but I, the child, I never really understood.

 

Walk with me, she said that early evening,

her smile frozen in the iciclic nature of time,

I wondered if when we ever did reach

a destiny, if then, perhaps would be a time,

we might center ourselves and then ask when.

But the winds were fierce, the bridge far too close,

the edge always asking for me, screaming really,

our separate paths become the night pattern.

 

Oh to hear the sounds, the visions do emanate,

for the will of our lives, the anguish we debate.