Richard Bachtold

Wild winter winds depart
in a final, dying howl.
Blackbird returns, a red-winged
oracle of spring,
announcing new life and renewed light,
shimmering with possibilities
of ever-circling Hope.

I have faith ... that one unknown voice of sacred Silence will prayerfully proclaim the advent of an everlasting light during the darkest night ...

The old tree of eternal creative life lives
with an open heart, very deep roots,
and many branches waiting to
transform into new life.

When you see the world as part of yourself, you will take care of it. When you see yourself as part of the world, you will be cared for.

In the shining secret garden, the solitary sign of the crocus speaks once more through blackened snow. The poet's word has revived with the resurrected flower, echoing the refrain of the One Song.

Winter mysteries whispered into invisible doorways
to holy blackness,
They silently fled over white landscapes
Like a dancing child cloud drifting with music.

Poetry awakened while snowflakes played in the
fearful twilight,
White notes striking the deepening silence graced all,
Yet dead ears forgot the path to song.

Now, light and dark embrace in our homeland
Where sacred silence sings ...