A few thoughts, images and sounds in celebration of
the shortest day of the year and
the winter peace of nature...
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Ignacio Zamora Sanz, Valencia, Spain
An illustration for "Brave New World"
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Daniela Bertol, New York
Walking through a few familiar places....
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Central Park and snow
the sun setting in New Jersey as viewed from the Hudson
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and the moon rising
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Jenny Goldsmith, New York
"the air is clear, the blue is celestial, the wonder expands..."
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Paolo Martegani, Roma
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Rosemary Paniagua, New York
if you’ve ever prayed to God ( …or universal Power, or whatever you consider greater than us… ), you should know that peace is an answer. Peace is the response and the gift from God.
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Andrea Harrison, New York
...to meditate on peace...to gaze at the setting sun.
Having taught for over twenty years, I never had the chance to cherish the alert and aware eye of a pre-schooler until I had my own child. My three year old son processes his world visually; he has an expressive language disorder, yet he does not have any disorder in understanding the nuance and beauty of the world around him. He notices everything and his receptive observations challenge me to look and see...to shed the cataract of age that has clouded my once-upon-a-time pristine perception. Reading DB's words, a contemplation of the solstice, I must share the words spoken by my son on that very passage...we happened to be in a parking lot and the sun was making its grand exit. He looked up at the sky and said, "I want to touch the night time. I want to hold a star." I saw the smile on his face and joined him in his celebration...his discovery of something beautiful...something greater than either one of us...something greater than both of us...something greater than all of us. He knew it was impossible to do, but he had to voice his whimsical wish aloud...which, for me, was nothing short of a miracle--for the fact that he articulated it and for the fact that he made me look and truly see and truly appreciate the grandeur of the world around us.
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Irene Mitchell, New York
Every Bright Green Yet Uncorrupted
Camera-shy after a long day,
and desiring no shocks except a small
jolt toward early eve
when the sun is perfect in its composure,
I sense the promise
of an hour spent beside the eglantine,
hearing in that bush the persistent
quip
of fledglings in their encumbrance.
On the brink of levity flutters an idea
pendant in the wind only yesterday,
but no matter how I spin it,
each facet remains verdant
until shadows fall
in a fabrication of labyrinths and spirals,
and moon against cypress cuts a signal
on the path.
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