February Snow 2005

At midnight  silence beckoned.

It told that snow had fallen. I rose to stand listening, fingertips pressed together at a windowsill alter.

Creeks flow, hushed and reverent. In a vast forest the size of cities, she and I are the only human souls that hour in a sea of unbroken indigo.

Ours,  the only breathings, our dreams alone hover over an immaculate complexion of winter. Be still, and know…

Amazing grace.


About fred

Fred First holds masters degrees in Vertebrate Zoology and physical therapy, and has been a biology teacher and physical therapist by profession. He moved to southwest Virginia in 1975 and to Floyd County in 1997. He maintains a daily photo-blog, broadcasts essays on the Roanoke NPR station, and contributes regular columns for the Floyd Press and Roanoke's Star Sentinel. His two non-fiction books, Slow Road Home and his recent What We Hold in Our Hands, celebrate the riches that we possess in our families and communities, our natural bounty, social capital and Appalachian cultures old and new. He has served on the Jacksonville Center Board of Directors and is newly active in the Sustain Floyd organization. He lives in northeastern Floyd County on the headwaters of the Roanoke River.

2 comments:

  1. Beautiful poetry and photograph. I just now noticed your barn. I first thought the white was a wide river, and wondered where you shot the scene!
    Now this is what your blog can be, a balance in your writing life. Let the left brain find additional venues for your concerns for our planet and government, but your right brain can use this very appropriate venue for photography, poetry, musings, and we all will benefit.
    I am mailing you a book I just finished that might speak to your last comment on the previous post. “When Breath Becomes Air”, a bestseller last year. The author has a terminal illness and his final months are full of searching for what best to do with his remaining time. You will relate.

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