“It Was Beginning Winter”

It Was Beginning Winter     
It was beginning winter,
An in-between time.
The landscape still partly brown:
The bones of weeds kept swinging in the wind,
Above the blue snow. 

It was beginning winter,
The light moved slowly over the frozen field,
Over the dry seed-crowns,
The beautiful surviving bones.
Swinging in the wind. 

Light traveled over the wide field;
Stayed.
The weeds stopped swinging.
The mind moved, not alone,
Through the clear air, in the silence. 

Theodore Roethke (1908-1963)
Poet 

 AN OPPORTUNITY FOR DAILY REFLECTION BROUGHT TO YOU BY THE SCHOOL OF PRACTICAL PHILOSOPHY

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