Nancy: Our landscape, in the snow, is black and white as if drawn with ink on rice paper.
December Redrawn As A Landscape
A low roof, a path,
boulder slopes, a pine-dark mountain
empty until you see the tiny figure;
now you see that this is a journey,
black and white, ink and dream,
a landscape waiting, a traveler, a goal.
That old lady has gone to get the sun.
Tomorrow she will draw this landscape
again, in color, in light.
Alan: When I came across this old poem, I was struck by its non-gender-neutral language. Feel free to substitute “her” and “herself” for “his” and “himself” throughout.
So We Shine
“ Exposed on the mountains of the heart” – Rilke
So we shine the brighter, each in his own way
So the feathered tree clutches and is nourished by the snow
So we shine like snowfields as each comes into light
So we blink out blindly across the gulf
So the tree breaks loose and soars alone
So an eagle rides from each and tilts and claws the air
So the air holds us all and nourishes our wings
So we rise and circle, circle, rise again
So we vanish together and altogether
So the snows remain, so the mountains, so the gulf
So light is equality as each shines in his own way
So at night the seeds lie waiting in the snow
So each wraps his wings in himself
So each keeps himself until light has come from each
So each unfolds and rises in his way