Secret Cove


Secret Cove

The barren season
moves with
stealth behind the
scenes of autumn,
steadily edging
toward the razor
cold and lacy veil
of ice and crystal.
Then suddenly
she falls, winter’s
glorious mystique
reveals in a day. In
sparkling white
layers, she
and penetrates
deeper than
surface chill
and snowdrift
for earth and
sea turn to stone.
I am forced
to stop too.
Winter’s brutal
artistry is blinding
and treacherous—
extravagant and

It’s the season of
intimate fireside
deepened love,
listening, and
drawing up
spring’s blueprints.
It’s the space to
embrace retreat
and the road less
worn in preparation
for tomorrow’s

The savage beauty
of winter is not to
fear for I have
prepared for this
day by learning to
listen and hold
steady in a secret
cove. In that
storm shelter, l’ve
knitted scarlet
hats and mittens
for my children
and refreshed in
pools of weeping.
There light gulps
darkness and iron
hope turns to gold.
I’ve leaned hard
upon the heart
of the Ancient
of Days and
heard Him
laugh, and there
I laughed too.
©️Bonnie Saul Wilks

2 Comments Add yours

  1. Such evocative imagery! Fantastic writing 🙂

    1. Bonnie says:

      Thank you!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s