WHYGARDEN fifty-six
It feels as though I have dreamed
a great snowfall,
moving through the mountains
with the howl of the wind,
with snow pressing close to the glass,
with the rail line carrying me farther
toward a landscape washed in white.
And through it all,
I bring spring with me.
Snow drifts over the frozen fields.
Pines stand in the distance.
An old church rests against the mountainside.
White upon white.
Through tunnels, over icy rivers, across bridges,
the seasons pass frame by frame outside the window.
Inside the carriage,
time turns unexpectedly warm,
and the journey becomes a shelter of its own.
RECOMMEND · SPACES
WHYGARDEN
Time Well Wasted in Spring Light
If we never make time for the seemingly useless, how are we to spend our finite lives?
WHYGARDEN
Spring Stirs Above the Clouds
If noise is not your way of life, enjoy the quiet of answering only to yourself.
