February Twilight I stood beside a hill Smooth with new-laid snow A single star looked out From the cold evening glow. There was no other creature That saw what I could see — I stood and watched the evening star As long as it watched me.
Antisthenes says that in a certain faraway land the cold is so intense that words freeze as soon as they are uttered and after some time then thaw and become audible so that words spoken in winter go unheard until the next summer.
Spring passes and one remembers one’s innocence. Summer passes and one remembers one’s exuberance. Autumn passes and one remembers one’s reverence. Winter passes and one remembers one’s perseverance.
I prefer winter and fall, when you feel the bone structure of the landscape – the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it, the whole story doesn’t show.