I walked alone today —
a wind from the north by my side
pushing the restless snow
against my opened face.
The lake lay silent
the trees, unyielding sentinels
reflected in its solemn ice,
with even crows staying silent.
Is this death’s beginning?
with only the sound of my footsteps
compressing the snow
walking beside me.
Maine Ice Storm by Jamie Wyeth
Today Magaly hosts at toads, and since Mary Oliver died recently we should write poetry reminded of her words: “whatever isn’t necessary shouldn’t be in a poem.”… I tried my best, and walked back to a walk I took earlier today.
I also link this to the Poetry Pantry
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January 19, 2019
Björn Rudbergs writings 
a sombre, almost menacing mood pervades your words. i love the painting, the way the crows are puffed up against the cold. we got snow last night. sunny today but the snow stays.
I think she would’ve liked this. I know how ridiculously arrogant that sounds. But I think that a woman who started her days with welcoming the sun and walking around, to see what Nature and the rest had to offer, would probably appreciate the sight of this walk… that starts with a man alone and ends with a question that suggests that even while we step on our own, Nature always keeps us company.
I typically find the silence of the snow comforting, but you’ve pulled out the disquieting aspect of silence, where all there is to hear is no more and no less the din we have in our heads.
The feeling of comfort and lingering despondency is stark as falling snow in this beautiful, beautiful poem Bjorn! ❤️
Lovely poem, it’s easy to feel what you were feeling as your words rang loud in the silence.
I can hear those footsteps in the snow, in that particularly deep silence deep snow casts on sweeps of land. Love the Wyeth painting too.
This is a fine piece of work Bjorn! I was lazy with my post today. I needed to make myself aware of Mary Oliver, and better respond to Magaly’s prompt. I am going to try again.
The subtle personification of the wind is so effective, Björn, and the description of the silent lake is so evocative of a winter’s day that I felt its chill right through me. What a perfect ending!
There’s a kind of trepidation in the winter scene all through. “restless snow” is an intriguing image indeed!
Actually, Bjorn, this is one of my favorites of your poems. It is very approachable and gives me strong images as I read. I understand the first time, with no necessity of re-reading. But then again I DID reread because I really liked it! I can picture your solitary walk and the thoughts swirling. The last stanza of contemplation is phenomenal.
Thank you Mary… I knew this would be more your style, if I would write poetry in Swedish this would be more my style I think…
Does one ever truly know where death begins? Crunching snow is as good a beginning as any, I suppose. 😉
“pushing the restless snow
against my opened face”
“compressing the snow
walking beside me”
You’re such a sneaky kinkster.
Loved the opening two lines –
the pause and the wording, the contrast – it speaks depths and volumes, in the unique way of long, northern winters and upon life’s reflections, on living and dying.
A small poem that is filled with intense impact – it’s really very moving.
This is beautiful and profound, Bjorn.
On a lonely quiet night, under a full moon, the crush of snow under footfalls, seems like we are the only ones to hear. And yet, we stand at attention, to hear another’s foot steps break the silence.
http://Somethingsithinkabout-annell-annell.blogspot.com
The snow blanket is regal yet menacing the juxtaposition is very clever
Happy Sunday Björn, thanks for dropping by my sumie Sunday today
Much🕵️♀️💖🕵️♀️love
I love the introspection and concluding question. Sometimes I think of death as a pioneer journey that I have to take alone.
As far as i am from snow right now, I inhabited the scene as you described it.
Bjorn, I enjoyed this so much as we can learn so much even when one walks alone. Crunching words and snow seems to bring a rhythm of peace.
Yes, I find this profound as well, surrounded by snow
Well painted 🙂
Still beautiful Bjorn, but did you edit it since I last read it? I posted a new one about the Ancients.
This is beautifully written – more so, I think, when, upon it’s conclusion, it was pinned to the backstory of Mary Oliver’s passing. The middle stanza, as I read, acted somewhat like a bridge from the walk to the introspective contemplation. I really like this poem!
Beautifully done.
the structure portrays that prevailing wind so well and the sounds of silence construct the poet’s passing – excellent!
Yes this was beautifully written Bjorn. However with our temperatures here in Australia hovering around the 40’s C it is not blowing enough cold winds this way!
I love your kind of snow. Bjorn. You wrote of my favorite. We had it quite often when we lived in New Hampshire. I especially remember on starting in the parking lot where I was shopping. That was 51 years ago.
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I agree, I think Mary would have liked this. No one who has walked and communed with nature like she did could escape witnessing the darker side of it also. This is an amazing piece!
really an excellent question, and hearkens back to Ms. Oliver’s penchant for asking them ~
Lovely writing, Bjorn. it reminds me of my time in Canada. Brrrrr!
Beautiful
I love the poem. Beautiful. And I’ve felt similar silence but oh no snow. Oh send me some snow. It is so hot here. I like the way the stanzas took a step in with each line and with each new stanza the stepping line by line. Lovely. Mary made you feel that. The whole simplicity of nature and how each step through it is a gift.