When the gentle east wind blows

heavy with dew

on the remnants of fall

creating the crystals

left from the fog.

The seed pods

the acorns and pinecones,

the cedar berries

and timothy grass

the leaves and pine bows

are tatted with ice.

Edging the land, so

we wake to a wonder

of a world that is silent.

A symphony so lucent

that was built in the night.

Sometimes all we need is a good night’s sleep for a thought to crystalize and become complete.  We just need that space and quiet, for our mind to rest, so things can sort themselves out.  That pause for a gentle breath, in the midst of life.

When I shared this poem with my daughter, Katie, she noted that this “was built in the night”.  So many things of beauty are created or can only be seen in the darkness of night.  Certainly the moon, the milky way, the fireflies, and moonflowers, to name a few.  Thinking of these things of beauty makes me wonder what is going on inside me during “dark nights”.  Maybe we could be gentler with ourselves if we think of the hoar frost.  Maybe the quietness and silence during those times wouldn’t be so fear-filled if we trusted that something beautiful and sacred is being created.