Reflections on Winter

Reflections on Winter (repost)

For a while I switched from tarot

to playing cards.

Just regular old cards.

No pretty pictures.

No Colman-Smith.

No abstract art.

No rainbow colors.

Just numbers and suit,

black and red,

blood and ash,

energy and associations.

And the associations are easy

with ordinary cards.

Spades are winter,

spades are dark.

The Queen, the twelfth card

of her suit,

a winter queen,

a waning year.

This is how you time a reading.

And I timed every reading out

to December,

to myself,

to that sharp and solitary queen.

Today is a turning point in time.

The air is cold and the wind is strong.

And air is winter.

Air is spirit

and, if you're lucky, inspiration,

new ideas and looking inward.

And I have been luckier in this regard

than in others.

Today is a new month and a new year.

The yard is a monochrome of snow

and dormant garden.

There are crows calling from the trees

loud and free and wild.

And the sky beyond the branches

isn't gray or silver

but really surprisingly blue.

Blue enough to get my attention.

Blue enough to anchor me

to this scene, this spot, this lonely season.

So I stand outside until my feet are cold

and I think that this is probably

where all the symbols point.

Not where you've been,

not where you're going

but the absolute magnitude

of where you are.

Today I know exactly

where that is.

Today is Sunday,

early January.

Today is number one of seven.

Today is number one of twelve.

And one is creation and renewal.

One is power under pressure.

One is stepping out and starting over,

and the single, shaking breath we take

before we leap.

I wrote this poem on January 1st, 2017. I was still reading cards professionally then and spent a lot of time making guesses about the future. I stopped reading later that year, and when I picked it up again I saw it differently. In keeping with the spirit of this poem. I no longer read professionally or make predictions.