A good barrier is neighbourly-
Keeps the bears out and the dogs in.
But the other world, the less polite world,
Doesn’t like fences.
Windstorms take out even the metal,
But, more often, it’s a long, slow clawing back
Of ground that isn’t ours to claim.
A rotting fence post slowly twined
Pulled down into the inexorable snow.
The best fences become part of that which destroys them
The physical barriers aren’t always the most permanent barriers.
For more barriers, physical and otherwise, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.
In the deeper forests,
The older, sheltered passages,
The waters never fully freeze.
Ice reaches out and is stayed-
Maybe afraid of the water-shaken sky
It can never hope to reach.
The water’s reflection is always kinder
Than the reality-
Edges smoothed and light expanded.
But even the ice can’t survive
The deep darkness beneath
The lying mirror.
Reflections can conceal as much as they reveal
I still remember the first time I tried to break through the reflection on the water as a child.
For more deep waters, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.
Day cracks the horizon here-
A hard fought battle, trailing the tattered remains of night
In fading strands of pink, of purple, of blue so thick the sky chokes with it.
Elsewhere, the dark flips to light with little ceremony-
A pale and faded transition.
Here, the day fights for purchase,
For every hour of light before being swallowed
By the lengthening shadows of winter.
Any light in winter is a fierce and hard fought battle
I am as interested by the northern light shows as I am by the many stories behind them.
For more fierce -literal- lights, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.
As the year ends and the ice swells,
The swans gather where the creeks meet the lakes.
Only small patches of open water now,
Steam rising and crystallizing around the shrinking waves.
The ice is too rotten for humans to travel and too thick for the swans to penetrate
In this moment, the swans triumph, the lake theirs alone.
A short victory-
The swans swim in circles,
Ignoring the closing ice.
Some transitions are easier to ignore than others
The persistence of life in inhospitable environments always fascinates me.
For more inevitable transitions, my fantasy novel, The Guests of Honor, is available here. Its sequel, With Honor Intact, can be found here.