Winter Sun

You can’t count on it in the Western Isles. We had some yesterday but today it’s back to dreich, grey and wet.      But that is what makes it so precious when the clouds relent and the winter sun breaks through. That, and the  landscapes and seascapes it illuminates. Because wherever you are on the islands you are never far from          somewhere stunningly beautiful.

Molly Fisk is not from here, in fact she is a Californian poet. But I thought this poem expressed the fleeting joy of winter sun beautifully, and she has graciously given us permission to reproduce it.

Winter Sun

How valuable it is in these short days,
threading through empty maple branches,
the lacy-needled sugar pines.

Its glint off sheets of ice tells the story
of Death’s brightness, her bitter cold.

We can make do with so little, just the hint
of warmth, the slanted light.

The way we stand there, soaking in it,
mittened fingers reaching.

And how carefully we gather what we can
to offer later, in darkness, one body to another.

Molly Fisk

To find out more about Molly’s work, check out her website here: http://www.mollyfisk.com/

I’m really looking forward to seeing your responses to this theme, so I will shut up now and let the winter sun do the talking.  Spencer

3 thoughts on “Winter Sun

  1. Winter Sun

    Coming back from a winter’s walk in January
    It had been sunny going down the hill
    The hills and cliffs clear and blue
    The sea reflecting the blue sky above

    Coming back uphill about half past three
    Dark grey clouds forming to the west
    The sun still lighting the sky underneath
    Down to the horizon

    A dark orange colour being squeezed down
    By those dark clouds
    A faint blue still left above and slowly
    The whole sky becomes darker
    And only faint stripes of colour remain
    Daylight has gone

    Then followed four sunny days
    Light blue sky with lots of sunshine
    About four o’clock a very low blinding sun
    Illuminating the whole sky
    Gradually setting in the west
    Pink sky in the east
    Until once again daylight disappears

    Then a week of grizzly grey sky
    Cold and wet we walk with our heads bowed
    Not seeing the landscape and
    Waiting for the sun to come back again
    Winter Sun

    Coming back from a winter’s walk in January
    It had been sunny going down the hill
    The hills and cliffs clear and blue
    The sea reflecting the blue sky above

    Coming back uphill about half past three
    Dark grey clouds forming to the west
    The sun still lighting the sky underneath
    Down to the horizon

    A dark orange colour being squeezed down
    By those dark clouds
    A faint blue still left above and slowly
    The whole sky becomes darker
    And only faint stripes of colour remain
    Daylight has gone

    Then followed four sunny days
    Light blue sky with lots of sunshine
    About four o’clock a very low blinding sun
    Illuminating the whole sky
    Gradually setting in the west
    Pink sky in the east
    Until once again daylight disappears

    Then a week of grizzly grey sky
    Cold and wet we walk with our heads bowed
    Not seeing the landscape and
    Waiting for the sun to come back again

    Urszula

    Like

  2. Winter Sun.

    Throw it
    Throw it
    All that hate
    All that fear
    The cold grey skin
    The clammy brow
    Never fear now
    Watch it burn
    Rise as new
    It flies away on the frosty horizon.
    Your breath comes in visible columns of white.
    Proving you are solid
    Yet shining like the Winter Sun
    The same star it’s always been
    Your footprints frosted
    Glistening in the diamond snow
    Converge on the banks of the mirrored river.
    Solid and straight for this season.
    Yet with an undercurrent of motion.
    Ever leading to the freedom of the Ocean.
    Salty, warm and womblike
    Waiting just waiting
    For the thaw
    For when the Winter Sun
    Releases us.

    Cathy Macleod

    Like

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