trails chill blight

We ran in the fresh snow last night. It was cold and potentially dangerous, a truth unceremoniously marked by an encounter with the local emergency services at work in the dark, chill below the trails.

pow’dree treads in i’see dark.
en frozen. blust’ring. cold. nay, stark
thern’winds whorl, rustle, haunt thas’night.
four, boundless, b’yond trails chill blight.

tha’sun were set, tho hints re’maned
magenta skies in west’ern waned
walk’d peoples and der’hounds thru snow
we past dem. wav’d. en on weed go.

where fresh fel’n snow obscures ern’root
leap’t o’er berms forged a for’gone foot.
tho, oft thru past we runners been
wern’t weer cool soles upon thas’seen.

resolute shunn’d eer’even pace
skiffs weer leapt oer’en shad’wee lace
well thru branches blinkt urgent reds
signals marking emerg’nt dreads

where oer thar creek spans trestle’d path
uniforms climb out tha’natured wrath
en’wen weed shine er probing lights
peekt down tward on griz’illed sights

silence. chill. in’gulfed we four souls.
onward ran, tho er hearts weer holes
marked hold’en to thas thing below
som’one fell, froze, succumb’d by snow.

thern’winds whorl, rustle, haunt thas’night.
four, boundless, b’yond trails chill blight.
digits numb’d weed end our jaunting,
frozen. blust’ring. cold. nay, haunting.

– bardo

I am not a poet, but a friend has inspired me to read more of it and think more critically about its place in the constellation of my creative pursuits. Occasionally, I’d like to post a poem here when inspiration strikes.

Reminder: Blogs are not a replacement for professional advice. Please read my note on safety and safe participation.

daylight

Dawn hides itself deeper in the morning,
As night’s darkness waxes upon winter
Year after year, as predictable as
Lunar orbits bring the tides and
Ice drawn heaps of crystalline snow
Greet shortened hours of sunlight
Honouring plotted courses through space and
Time and seasons passing now and ever.

– bardo

I have reserved some space on this blog each week to be creative, and to post some fiction, poetry, art or prose. Writing a daily blog could easily get repetitive and turn into driveling I have reserved some space on this blog each week to be creative, and to post some fiction, poetry, art or prose. Writing a daily blog could easily get repetitive and turn into driveling updates. Instead, Wordy Wednesdays give me a bit of a creative nudge when inspiration strikes.

spayed

This morning I made a heart-aching drive to the veterinarian clinic to drop off a one-year-old puppy who, over the past almost-a-year has filled that same heart with joy … and for whom I’m returning the favour by having her reproductive organs surgically removed.

As per our agreement with the breeder, and in consultation with my friend-now-vet, the day finally arrived for this simple yet important procedure. We’re having her spayed.

spAd

It’s for her health. It’s for her happiness. It’s for her well-being.

I had thought the term was common, but my next door neighbour had never heard the term before and I had to spend a few minutes explaining it.

Any time a friend or family member (and a puppy is both, isn’t she?) goes under the knife it gives one pause for reflection and soul-aching empathy. My (very human) daughter has had minor surgery twice in her life and both times, even years later, are etched into my memory as if carved into steel with a diamond chisel.

The risks are, of course, the surgical process itself and the lingering feeling that I’m surgically altering my friend for what (at this exact moment) feels like a bit of a selfish, very human reason.

The benefits as I understand them are important: lowered risks of infections and cancers, and simply a life with fewer hormonal fluctuations. Plus, she can then safely attend daycare or local indoor dog parks and play with other dogs in a warm indoor space even as the winter rolls into a deep, immovable cold.

In the next few days we’ll be resting and recovering, chilling with lots of attention and careful pets … and maybe a few less belly rubs for a week or so.

How to Draw; a Poem

I’ve been doing a lot of sketching and watercolour in my free time. I won’t claim that it’s anything amazing … not yet … but I’m enjoying my newfound hobby and I feel like I’m starting to see the world in one of two ways, things that I could paint or things that I would like to figure out how to paint.

In the meantime, I had some inspiration for some words, rather than pictures.

paper
blank canvas
rugged fibrous texture
page coil bound bookish

pencil
leaden tipped
loosely gripped anglar
shapes hinting forms sketched

ink
permanently black
deliberate lines etched
images tracing weighty details

paint
wetted brush
hues dappled pigments
colours bouyant imitating universes

– bardo

I have reserved some space on this blog each week to be creative, and to post some fiction, poetry, art or prose. Writing a daily blog could easily get repetitive and turn into driveling updates. Instead, Wordy Wednesdays give me a bit of a creative nudge when inspiration strikes.