January 13, 2020 by ebbtide

first snow

Poetry
absolution, contentment, ice, peace, poem, Poetry, rain, seasons, snow, trees, winter, writing
11 Comments

so cold, not-quite-rain
hisses through the husks
of the locust pods

later, this ice will gentle
into hushful snow –
which absolves all,
forgives everything

and for a blessed hour,
every branch will
outshine the moon

November 27, 2019 by ebbtide

*

Poetry
contentment, nature, peace, poem, Poetry, seasons, silence, snow, winter, writing
4 Comments

on new snow, I inscribe
only footprints –

there being nothing
that the leaves have not
already said

February 25, 2019 by ebbtide

akin to grace

Poetry
contentment, elk, grace, hiking, life, light, poem, Poetry, snow, wanderlust, wilderness
19 Comments

I stop in the cold where the elk have rubbed
their considerable selves against the trees –
signatures in russet worn by the river birch

there is a tangible rising when standing beside
evidence of what is wilder than us –
a furtive blessing, a lift akin to grace

I would spend my life on this – on branch,
on root, on hoof prints sliced into the snow

I would stop and stand with my solitude –
with my own snowy indentations –
and be simply crowded with light

My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press. Pre-orders through March 22nd will have an opportunity to win a canvas print of the cover art. Click for details!

February 20, 2019 by ebbtide

early snow – excerpt from Wandering Wonderful

Poetry
art, chapbook, comfort, contentment, dogs, giveaway, life, poem, Poetry, snow, Wandering Wonderful, winter
11 Comments

an early snow this year

icy and hard, it woke me –
hissing and insistent
through the crack in the sill

the dogs both dig deeper
into my side, settle once more,
and sigh – little heart-furnaces

The weather this year has been hard on the dogs and little Angus especially is feeling his age lately. But it’s amazing what comfort a dog can bring into a life – and I am blessed to have both of them for as long as I may.

February 12, 2019 by ebbtide

heartwood

Poetry
hope, plum, poem, Poetry, seasons, snow, spring, storm, trees, winter
7 Comments

our days of heavy snow
have shattered the plum trees –
snapped their branches until
they stand now in the night
silent as broken men

the rain now exposes them,
these splits in branch
and dangling bough –
only Spring will ascertain
whether the heartwood sustains

My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.

February 9, 2019 by ebbtide

a night walk in new snow

Poetry
contentment, mouse, nature, night, peace, poem, Poetry, seasons, snow, walking, winter
5 Comments

on some nights, like this one –
out in the snow near to midnight –
the size of living can be altered

for a short time, I can be small –
a warm-furred mouse trailing punctuation
across the unmarked drifts

I took the most enchanting walk through the falling snow late last night. The streets were quiet and not a car moving in sight. Every tree was wrapped in white, and the night felt huge and soft. Sometimes it’s nice to find these reminders that I don’t need to leave the confines of the city to find peace and contentment in nature.

My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.

February 7, 2019 by ebbtide

old snow

Poetry
caution, forecast, new, old, persistence, poem, Poetry, seasons, snow, stars, winter
6 Comments

the old snow settles in,
becomes crotchety
stubborn in its insistence
on retaining territories

but the new is coming –
eight inches forecast
to whisper its cloak
over the dogged old

for now, I step gently –
cautious of sheen
and crunch, only at intervals
glancing up at the stars

My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.

February 5, 2019 by ebbtide

a birthday poem

Poetry
aging, birthday, cold, dawn, February, life, poem, Poetry, seasons, snow, wind, winter
10 Comments

in the blue light
of an icy February dawn,
everything is crisp
everything has edges
that crumble and crunch

and the wide mouth
of the wind shows its teeth
as it comes surging
around the corner
of my 43rd year

once every year
we meet in some manner,
this time it is with
cold-bitten fingers,
head down against the wind

though here and there
a few power lines
may be leaning low,
you may be certain
we will meet this way again

Snow on Sunday night and two inches of ice on the roads in my neighborhood. Tomorrow I turn 43 and I can’t remember the last time I had snow on my birthday. It’s not such a common thing in Seattle, and so usually I have to go in search of it up into the mountains and foothills if I want some of the white stuff. This year, I can just step outside my door.

My newest chapbook Wandering Wonderful is now available for pre-order from Finishing Line Press.

February 16, 2018 by ebbtide