Winter

Composed 11/29/11
Description: This is a poem I wrote several years ago; though, it is  one that continues to be relevant to me. I saved posting it until now (for obvious reasons).

It’s not summer when I miss you
When the sun is warm on my skin
And shining
And there’s running
And laughter
And fresh water
Splashing against my face

It’s winter
When snow falls and we bundle up
Eager for warmth
Eager to cling to each other
To sit by the fire
And hold deep conversations
While drinking hot chocolate

That is when I look up
To the sky and wonder
Where you are

It’s winter when I long for
The exhilarating rush of
The frigid wind whipping my cheeks and
Laughter as we crash
Rolling around in the snow

It’s winter
When we are thankful for each other
And eager to please others
To love
And be loved

A Perfect Night

Composed: 7/14/13
Description: A dream from a few weeks ago.

Utter bliss hardly succeeds in describing the feeling.

I am running, bolting it — my arms straight out, ready for flight. I am screaming in pure ecstasy as I run, like I am on the world’s most gloriously terrifying rollercoaster.

I run through a snow covered forest in the morning light. The slender, icy branches and distant, snowy hills possess the kind of raw beauty reserved for fairytales and Planet Earth specials.

There is music playing – a song I’ve never heard. It probably does not exist. I’m not sure where it is coming from since it seems to fill the air in every direction.

I break from the trees into an endless, white clearing. Suddenly I remember that I am not alone. Another runs with me, several feet away; though, like me, he has been preoccupied with his own bliss and hasn’t recalled my presence until this moment. Not losing a stride, we glance at each other – both smiling, a certain gleam in our eyes. We know that, for both of us, this has been the best moment of our lives.

We join together, laughing, racing in the narrow hallway between an impossibly tall snow-covered wall and a line of snow piled atop large boulders. We laugh, our jaunt finally reaching an end as we jump into the somehow fluffy snow piles. We breathe heavily, but we are not tired.

The scene cuts, but I reemerge not but a few minutes later. There is another with us now – a face well-known. A man in the guise of a hunter of demons and other evil things. He stands a respectable distance away, as if not wanting to intrude.

My face and feelings are grim now. My friend wears an expression of utter severity as well. I point to the hunter as I address my friend.

“If there is evil after us I want him with me.”

My friend seems to soften into resignation as I wake.