Amy Secrist

Tag: cold

  • I see the golden leaves

    I see the golden leaves fluttering in frozen wind, I feel an empty sky, the circumference of joy is hard to find. I catch the cardinal’s red flash under scattered bits of sun, I know the cracking cold, come cold winter, come.

  • Winter Strawberries

    Backing down the drive we see snow and sleet on the cold stones and grass, evidence of winter’s long-clutching grasp on Ohio. We head to church, the grocery, back to church school, and finally home where we hang coats, store mittens, and wash hands. We dice red onion and cooked chicken, slice black olives and grape…

  • The Light and the Challenge

    In the blazing heat the trees and grasses golden; they are candleflame and firelight. In the shimmering cold the frogs and crickets amplify; they are thunderclap and echo. In the winding cave the dripstone spikes lengthen into mountain and valley where the heat blinds and the cold paralyzes, the climb and the cliff wear and scatter,…