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Winter
Where do I begin with you? How can so much have passed in so little time? You have been crisp blue-eyed, wide with hope. After being asleep for so long, You have woken me up. You have seen my dreams, the ones I hold close and fast to my heart flutter out in the breeze, and come true - More beautifully than I could have imagined. Winter you have seen me love again, love fully, unreservedly - and dance unfettered, among the stars. I try to count on my fingertips all I'm thankful for and it never seems to end. I close my eyes and think back to last season - how much my life changed then, and I can tell you if my life was jumping around then This winter, its done a somersault over a ravine But I wouldn't have it any other way. You, Winter You are the coolest. But please, bring on Spring - I am welcoming the sunshine, bright-eyed and smiling... I am ready
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 Today
I watched the setting sun from our rock, You missed a kite flying in the distance, the sparkling star in the east, the whispering trees and the wind running wild in my hair - In the past two months we have dreamed, and seen so much sky - You know how I feel, And I know you feel the great warmth tickling my heart too. It is joy. On my way home, I picked a bunch of jasmine - I know it isn't time yet, but think of it as an extra early birthday present - a sweet presence, like the ever-changing sky - and I know however far away you seem, you see the same horizon  Art is a
reawakening the senses; to know a wholeness of body, mind and spirit, which we seldom glimpse, but which we are intended to know. -George McDonald  Green on
my shoulders, under my feet - and stitching green cotton and thread. Sitting green Reading green (with brilliant bookmarks) and a green bowl of breakfast Remembering how to let go and swing among green and feeling new life blooming green in my heart and my head. Last year he was almost there -
recovering from a very traumatic dismemberment. But today as mum was pulling in the washing she called out to me - and we stood under his frail branches and watched his blooms dance in the wild wind. Mr Magnolia was dancing - dancing with all his might, dancing without fear of being blown over, dancing boldly dancing beautifully for us - for the sky and our rickety fence, dancing because he can, dancing because all things grow |
ABOUT the authorEmily Clare Sims is a farmer and mama to three young boys. Each day she looks for ways to notice beauty, contemplate her faith and savour the seasons... Categories
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December 2022
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