Boundaries of Time

by Darren Wadel

“To everything there is a season,
a time for every purpose under heaven.” —Ecclesiastes 3:1

January
and the clock stands still.
The gong of the bell swings
in the stiff, subzero breeze
but does not chime.
What is done is done.
Frozen fields of snow stretch
like a mirror
below the pale Wolf moon.

In the night stillness
an illumined soul breaks
from the body of the earth.
Life and death stand
strangely together—
two close trees
swaying calmly
reaching    touching
a stream of ice between.


In this moment, Darren might be skiing, reading, or writing around his A-frame cabin in northern Vermont, or he might be anywhere else seeking out places and people with depth, spareness, a pulse beneath the surface—who can tell?


Photography by Kenneth Godoy

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