Boreal winds rise
Through firs their silver voices
Wake the frozen dawn
Shadows braid with pale blue light
Dreams drift on the northern glow
Under boreal sky
Fox prints stitch the moonlit crust
Soft as whispered myths
Ancient quiet learns to breathe
While wild hearts remember fire
Carol, this is breathtaking. You have a true gift for weaving the stark, beautiful loneliness of the boreal landscape with such profound warmth and life. The imagery is exquisite—”silver voices” of the firs, shadows braiding with light, fox prints stitching the snow like a whispered myth. It feels both ancient and immediate, a perfect capture of that quiet, wild heart remembering its fire. Thank you for sharing such a beautiful piece. It stayed with me long after I read it.
Thank you for your wonderful feedback. I’m really glad it stayed with you long after you read it. 💗💗
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