
Monday Morning Musings:
“I have forgotten that dark Berlin winter.
I will not forget the light of the horses.”
–from Pablo Neruda, “Horses.”
Winter has its own beauty–
bright holiday baubles and candle light
glowing flickers within window frames
stars twinkling in December night,
their glow a memory from the past
and we remember, too, the past
celebrations in other places with people now gone
but stop we say, we are here, and now
with family and friends gathered together
we cook, we open gifts, we light the candles
first night
second night
each night one added
until finally, eight candles burn
and if there is no miracle, at least there is light

My mother does not remember–
how many candles? Ten? she asks.
But she sings along in Yiddish with the rabbi,
songs from her childhood
songs of another world, now gone.
We walk in twilight through city streets
winter here, a different kind of beauty
of lines, reflections, and angles
people on holiday time without the frenzy–
the train at rush hour, not so crowded.

Philadelphia, Lines, Angles, and Reflections
Winter has its own allure–
dramatic grey clouds and stark, elegant branches.
We drink mulled wine and eat Christmas cookies,
we watch a show of space exploration and new worlds–
love and war the constants of human experience.

Reflections at Red Bank Battlefield, December 2019.
Winter holds its secrets tight–
rising behind the clouds, the sun blazes and the moon shimmers,
beneath the snow, green sprouts watch and wait
beyond the darkness, comes the prancing light of horses,
carrying yesterday into tomorrow, and I remember
the light.

Older daughter made this ornament for me.
Last night we watched a movie on Amazon Prime called Remembrance (original title: Die verlorene Zeit or The Lost Time) 2011. It’s loosely based on a true story of a couple who meet and fall in love in Auschwitz. He’s a Polish Christian, and she’s a German Jew. He smuggles photographs out of the camp, and he helps her escape. The movie toggles back and forth between her remembering the 1940s and the present (set in the 1970s.) It seemed a fitting movie for the last night of Hanukkah–and I suppose their escape was a bit of miracle, too.
We’re also nearing the end of The Expanse.