Each week on The Wild Edge, free to all subscribers, I will be sharing a short 5-ish minute creative retreat, with an invitation to find a little splice of time where you can nourish your creative spirit. Some weeks I will read you a poem. Other weeks I will read a reflection or offer a journal prompt. We will be mind mapping, and list making, drawing and dreaming. I hope these 5 minutes become a highlight of your week, as well as my own.
This week, I wanted to bring a poem with a seasonal touch, as we approach the deep winter, deep Samhain, here in the northern hemisphere. For that I have selected ‘Snow’, by Louis Macneice. Alongside the beautiful image of the ‘spawning snow’ against the windowpane, I love the twist which this poem offers, and the open space of questioning it invites, helping me to see the winter differently too.
I hope you will join me each week on these mini creative retreats, and feel free to let me know how this lands for you in the comments.
Snow, by Louise MacNeice.
The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was Spawning snow and pink roses against it Soundlessly collateral and incompatible: World is suddener than we fancy it. World is crazier and more of it than we think, Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion A tangerine and spit the pips and feel The drunkenness of things being various. And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes— On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of one's hands— There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.
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