Winter is the best time
to find out who you are.
Quiet, contemplation time,
away from the rushing world,
cold time, dark time, holed-up
pulled-in time and space
to see that inner landscape,
that place hidden and within.
I love soup and sweaters, long books and even longer nights, the way the stars sparkle like ice in a winter sky and the blinding sun reflecting off a crusty layer of newly fallen snow. Winter is the best time. And in this threshold time between the first day of Christmas and the last, I often find myself quiet contemplation time that David Budbill mentions in his poem.
Often the occasion for my contemplation is the turning of the year. My days of making resolutions and indulging in too much champagne are behind me. Now I prefer to spend the days leading up to New Year's Eve reflecting on the year that has past and looking forward to the year that is on the horizon.

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