Cold

This a winter leftover.

 

Cold the night.

The slivered crescent moon rises,

ascendant energies in a light-framed sky.

Warm tea eases the restless wanderer back to slumber.

 

Between dawn and somber night,

crystals climb from the frozen lake,

dance
— and then bind to desolate branches in star light.

 

And as morning approaches,

the icy filigrees grasp every branch and pine needle,

and bear witness to creation’s dogged ways.

 

At dawn a white coat clings.

It propels a sluggish soul to trek to the whispering wood,

where the sun scales the arc of day,

and lucid tendrils relax their grip when an errant exhalation passes by.

 

They spin, they dance,

like the lacewings of summer.

 

Author: Doug Lewandowski

I have walked a varied path. I was a Christian Brother, an English teacher/counselor and Licensed Psychologist. I have a twice monthly column in the Duluth News Tribune and have had a story published in the Nemadji Review and placed third in this year’s Jade Ring contest of the Wisconsin Writer’s Association. I was a commentator for KCRB, Minnesota Public Radio in the 90s. I transplanted to Duluth to be closer to grandchildren.

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