No contest! In another three minutes the car is parked,
I'm out and on my way.
The air is cool and damp today,
not knowing whether to snow or to rain.
But right now it's the lightest of snows I've ever known.
Barely perceptible but for some gentle
snow flakes dancing on my eyelashes.
The sky is uniform gray except for a hazy yellow
glow where the sun must be hiding.
I'll stick to the road since the ground is
wearing a light blanket of snow.

I walk briskly both to stay warm
and because my muscles are still loose
from earlier exercise today.
Soon I overtake a fellow walking with two dogs.
They strain on the leash as their powerful little bodies track a
scent, noses to the ground. "Bassett Hounds?",
I ask as they stop to honor a signpost.
"Yep," the simple reply. I comment on how they must
wear away the fur as they drag their ears along
the ground in pursuit of that elusive scent.
He offers how one of them used to step on his own ears as a pup!
We laugh for a moment, but then they are done and strain to move on.

I find myself, too, straining to move more quickly;
my legs say "run!"
Oh, how strong my desire; as strong as the hound's need to track a
scent! Well, maybe just a bit (the chronic knee be damned!).
I breakaway and leave my momentary friend and his straining dogs.
I have only my own urges pulling me,
and I run gently all the way to the pond.
Just as the pond comes into sight a girl passes by and
I say "hello" between my rhythmic breaths.
She peers out from behind her veil of shyness
-- or is it sadness, I know not which -- and barely manages a
faint "hi". I wonder what troubles her, and what brings
her to the pond on a day when snowflakes dance on eyelashes.
But today is not a day for me to know.

The pond is frozen solid and I venture out to watch a man at work
tending his ice-fishing. He is busy; we do not speak.
I think of the fish beneath the ice, so different from us
who would freeze in a moment under there.
Nature's plan..so well devised. Man, the only creature to question it,
and to try and shape it in ways not meant to be.
It must take the highest of intelligence to be such a fool!
Ah, these legs of mine -- won't you be content?
I've run you and my knee's
dull ache is already upon me; silence your desire!

I gently run to the dam, now void of the bridge which once graced
it. But today no bridge would be needed, Nature has made a bridge of
the entire pond. In Her might She has quietly and calmly, yet
powerfully, altered the usual reality we know, as She mocks man's
feeble attempts to change the natural order. Oh what beauty, as the
water slides over the graceful curves of the dam. Like long silken
hair streaming far down the lovely curves Nature has bestowed on
women.

The water's power gone as it crashes at the bottom, it meanders
slowly now amongst black rocks and clumps of yellow straw-like grass.
Each little island is wearing a bonnet of pure white snow
and a skirt of thinly frozen ice.
Onward it flows to a black whirlpool where it
circles as if dazed by its recent journey. I walk slowly away, and
suddenly become aware of how the water's bubbling, gushing, rushing
sounds subside with each step I take. Not wanting this friendly,
babbling song to end all at once, I take the trail along the river.

At the strong bridge where the river becomes deep and black, I stop.
As I stand at the edge and stare into the abyss, my heart recalls the
question that's been lurking there today. I recite two poems in my
head: one to, one from. No difficulty with the words, they've been
well rehearsed the past few days. And the meaning of one is all clear
to me without a doubt. But the other leaves me wondering. Not of what
the words, in isolation, mean to my mind,
for that is abundantly clear.
But rather the meaning of the words to my heart
in the context of all else both known and sensed.
A beginning, a middle, or an end, I wonder?
These words in isolation, like a single moment in time, cause me no
concern. But like the flowing stream beneath me, nothing stands
still. Everything is always moving, constantly changing.
Each moment adds to all those that came before, and they soon become a season.

Such warm sweet words, full of love, hope and tenderness,
surely must be the voice of Spring.
Or could they be but Autumn's Indian-summer
breezes honoring a too brief harvest that has already come and gone,
and warning of another long Winter so soon ahead.
I know not which. And today I cannot know.
Nature offers few signs of what will be tomorrow,
except the surety that one season shall always follow another.
So, like a leaf upon the river, I let this concern slip away,
and flow far from my mind. But two key phrases lurk behind, and this
time they fall softly from my lips and are lost in the damp winter air.
With a sigh I smile a half-smile as if with a shrug, and look up at
the sky with moistened eyes.
Gentle snowflakes dance upon my eyelashes, and I move on.

Up the hill I race with determination, glad to overcome such a simple
physical obstacle; for today in my mind I am blocked. Today is not a
day for knowing. It is a day for faith! As my happy legs carry me up
the hill I am suddenly aware of a different sound. Not the usual
"clomp-clomp" but a new, different "crunch, crunch, crunch." For the
trail is covered today with light snow. Not enough to impede my
progress, but just enough to soften my step and to remind me that
today is different. Too soon I reach the hard, black road and like
the river's babbling song before, must leave my friendly
crunching noises behind.
As I emerge from the woods, once again the snowflakes greet me
and dance upon my eyelashes.

The air now is even more damp, and the day has become more cold and
gray...will this become rain or snow, I wonder? At a clearing where
the road is exposed to the openness a gush of cold damp wind hits my
face. I begin to trot as a chill goes up my spine. Yes, this is
Winter! Have I forgotten while taking in the sights and sounds and
thinking my thoughts? Not every day can I bask in the warmth of
sunshine and gentle breezes and know so easily of Love and Life. Days
like today remind me of the need for faith. I must not overlook the
beauty which is still everywhere around, but today takes on new forms
which are not so easy to know. In faith alone I must trust that all
which is good and kind also has need for rest. When the time is right
and the seed again swells in his heart, the natural cycle will swing
back again. Another Spring shall come, and Love's warm breezes once
more shall kiss my cheek and play with my hair.

And I shall recall the Winter day when there was but faith and
" snowflakes that danced on eyelashes! "