I've been hearing of a cruel autumn on the north, as it has been here before on the south too.
The creativity in me, or the growing in the blog -the ability to link minimal interesting ideas has been going from understandable to obscure, then to none, as the winter in the north is freezing nature.
So I'm caught in a frozen flowering; while the sun of springtime is burning like if it was summer here at town. Too many worries, may be.
Spring stars glitter in the freezing sky,
Trees on watch are armoured with frost.
In the dark tarn of a mirror a face appears.
Time is moving through displacements.
Hungrily the blind earthworm burrows
Deeper into its night. Surely
Heaven must ache with all its vacancies.
A dog’s howl is thrown up like a rope-trick.
It is an hour for prayer without words.
James Phillip McAuley, "Winter morning".