A Soft Reminder

A Soft Reminder

Christmas has come and gone,
and another year is waning.
As always, I think of you
with a gentle longing
that I have befriended
over the years.
The warmth and gentleness
of our love is here, too.
There is much on my mind,
but I think this year
I’m going to sit with the beauty
of this soft reminder
that filled my being
as I crossed a small brook
on a winter hike
 with friends today.
There, right there -
a perfect heart
waiting to be seen.
I saw it, I feel you,
I love you, too.

© Sarah Carlson
December 31, 2023

Stalled... and in Motion

 Stalled… and in Motion 

My mind wanders
as I walk along a snowy trail
 that’s new to me.
I realize I’m searching
to find words to describe
what’s going on within.
I don’t ever remember feeling
quite this way before -
sort of disoriented, but in a good way.
Drifty,  though my vessel is secure.
Stalled, and clearly in motion.
An image of water-skiing
drops gently into my mind.
Those lovely moments of suspension
just after a wide turn as you wait
for the pull of the boat
to catch up to you.
You know the energy is there,
so you delight in the pause.
“Yeah, that’s it… kind of,” I think.
Later, we stop to examine
 a glacial erratic that borders the trail.
I gaze upward -
 rocky edges
meet a soft blue sky
as wispy clouds dash by.
Further aloft I spy an eagle.
He turns into the wind,
flaps his huge wings to adjust
and then hangs motionless.
He does this several more times
and then…
he does a 180,
zooms away with the wind,
wings open wide for the ride.
I take a deep breath,
grateful for the serendipity
of nature speak
once again.

© Sarah Carlson
December 14 - 31, 2023

Do You Hear It, Mama?

Photo by Emma Carlson

 Do You Hear it, Mama?

A family outing on Christmas Day,
three generations strong.
We walk to Madison Boulder,
play in the babbling brook
that flows nearby.
As we head back
 three-year old Otto
 grabs his mother’s hand,
then stops and asks,
“Do you hear that water flowing, Mama?”
Thinking we had left the brook behind,
we’re surprised
at what appears to be
a mini waterfall deep in the trees.
We weave through soggy woods
to be greeted by water sparkling
 in the mid-day sun
as it aerates during its plunge,
 bubbles when it rejoins the brook
in a raucous rush.
Icy edge waters dangle and glisten
in silent suspension,
ice platelets hang
on tiny branches
with beautiful patterns
 all their own.
Rich unplanned moments, these,
 provided by
 an adventurous boy
who feels free to ask,
and loving adults
who know to listen.

© Sarah Carlson
December 30, 2023

Ever Expanding Light

 Ever Expanding Light

Here in Maine
we had a lovely winter storm
that overlaid our world
for many days.
A true winter wonderland,
uplifting and beautiful.
Just over two weeks later,
a storm of a very different nature
hit hard.
Torrential rains, crazed winds,
raging rivers,
flooding and destruction.
All this with winter not even here,
until today.
Bare trees sway in a chilly breeze,
still waters freeze,
humans connect
and work to recover.
An icy patch near my home
catches my eye
as I walk and wonder.
I stand for a bit in awe once again
at what nature holds, if only we look.
Bent branches,
air pockets,
angles, openings,
waters both clear and rippled.
So much there
that wouldn’t be
without Light.
Perhaps that’s why
this day contains
 warmth through the chill,
insight from reflections,
promise in the dark.
It’s a day that,
through it all,  
we can recognize
the hope of ever expanding Light.

© Sarah Carlson
December 21, 2023

Oh, These Trees

 

Oh, These Trees

I walk by the river,
as I have so often over the years.
Though the water surely flows,
all is quiet under a soft gray sky.
Snowflakes of an approaching storm
begin to gently fall.
As often happens along this trail,
clarity seeps its way in
without my asking.
I gaze across the river
and smile at a familiar,
though ever-changing, sight.
Oh, these trees
and how they reflect,
help me do the very same.
Memories of shared and solo
snowshoe, ski, and paddling adventures.
Sunsets, moon shadows,
ice formations, geese visitors,
eagles on the wing.
I slide in deeper and recognize
there are some facets,
though universal,
that are unique to me,
my inner landscape.
 The love, the missing, the loneliness.
The courage, the pain, the despair.
The hope, the comfort, the healing.
I embody the truth of it all.
My truth.
And then…a knowing
 that if and when I branch out anew,
I will carry with me all that has come through
in the soothing company
 of this river and these trees.

Sarah Carlson
December 4, 2023