When a Pine Cone Falls

When a Pine Cone Falls

Winter brings a stillness sought by those who beg time to reflect.

It brings calm that creates space,

Vast opportunity to explore desolate reaches where most dare not walk.

Howling wind and chill keep them at home.

There was a time when I’d do those winter weekends on the Cape,

Guest of a hermit friend who found joy in it, too,

Always welcomed by cedar wood crackling in the cast iron fireplace,

 A stew or soup on the stove.

Quotidian outings found us combing desolate dunes,

Serenely searching droppings of birds of prey,

Their recent meals discovered in dissected remains,

Scat found buried in windswept sands.

We’d stoop and pick at winter’s nature,

Marveling at the hardiness of sea grape and grasses,

Gathering up that which had singular beauty.

Such wonder we shared in those cycles of life revealed on winter walks.

What does it mean

When a pine cone falls?

                                                                                  -RF, January 2015

[Gone now, my hermit friend, but not my love for him and the lessons he taught me.]