Overwinter Seasons Pass

I am aware of a cold, wisp of quiet—
the kind of silence that feels frosted,
ancient, and slightly eerie.
Silence makes its own soft sound,
like breath on winter air.
The silence descends gently,
like ash drifting down after a fire—
soft, weightless, inevitable.

I stand still, like a neglected heap
near this small stream, dormant, waiting
in a season of rest and abandonment.
A soft wind moves through,
making that whispery, sighing sound.
The wind threads through trees
with mourning, memory, and endurance.

A small bird appears—
lively but tinged with sadness,
embodying emotional contradiction.
Its song blends into the landscape,
becoming part of the atmosphere.
A delicate, string-like sound—
The world itself seems to play music.
The sky’s highest point gleams sharply,
almost metallic, but trembles—
light that is brilliant yet unstable.

Something kind, refined, almost ceremonial begins—
A gesture soft, luxurious, tender—
a caress, a blessing, a moment of grace.
This gentle act sanctifies my path—
life, movement, purpose.
I am a small sacred light,
carried through this natural,
slightly shadowed world.
It’s a pilgrimage of illumination.

Through fragrant, healing plants—
symbols of sweetness and protection.
A sensory memory rises—
warmth, spice, comfort.
A memory that is alive and aromatic.
longing glints like a gemstone—
bright, sharp, precious.
The yearning trembles but doesn’t break or resolve.
The longing is strong,
but not strong enough to unravel peace—
trying to understand—reaching.

I move slowly under this clouded, muted heaven—
a contemplative walk.
I lean into the cold, frosted air—
I accept it, almost affectionately.
I sift out the pain,
separating what must be kept
from what must be released.
I allow old griefs and memories to settle together—
no longer resisting them,
as the sharp, metallic strike of grief softens.
What once rang loudly now becomes quiet, pliant.
The wind’s voice turns into a bittersweet song—
joy and sorrow braided.
The song ascends, lifting my grief upward.
Suffering becomes a living presence—
soft, deep, infinite.
Silence stands watch, glowing, patient, eternal.
A guardian of my healing.