Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Red Priest at Winter
(Vivaldi's Winter Sonnet)

shivering amid
the silvery snow,
we run from the wind’s cutting breath;
we batter and stomp our feet while
our teeth chatter in the bite of the wind.

Later we sit,
contented by the fire,
while rain falls with fury
on one hundred souls outside.

Outside again, we step gently,
cautious lest we fall to the ground.
We dash across the frozen pond
romping and racing
we fall jump up run
until the ice splits
Inside, we hear the rushing winds
feel them course through the house
in spite of bolted windows
in spite of the locks on our doors.
Sirocco and Boreas,
the wind gods play at war.
This is winter,
but even in winter
we find joy.

(Image: New York Times....Justin's park.)