End of February

Aspen trees of rural Toten by Balke, Norway, in January 2025.

End of February

delicate brush strokes,
embroidery of deer
mouse tracks,
red fox paw prints
melt in the snow —

music
in the white silence,
aspen trees
trembling in the wind
put on flesh and sinew —

long have I shivered
in the cold,
long have I huddled
by the fire —

I only know
the long-awaited promise
draws near.






D. G. Vachal © 2025

Image by Oyvind Holmstad @ Wikimedia Commons https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Pilegrimskulturlandskap_21.jpg

“Love Letter”

by D.G. Vachal

At the end of winter daylight
when lemon passion glows
with the ardor of periwinkle,
at unexpected moments
I remember

a melody long forgotten,
jubilant as a nightingale’s song,
that led my fledgling
heart to soar
towards the blazing stars
once upon the sands of time —

Now, when it matters no more,
I recall the scribbled ink upon the paper,
a voice that called my name,
at twilight’s edge
when my heart beholds the colors,
the warm farewell
of the setting sun.

D. G. Vachal © 2014

“The Sound of Snow”


The Sound of Snow

Lace and flannel fall
on February ground,
like flocks of woolen lambs
huddled
upon the leafless hills—

Tell me,
can you hear the sound of snow,
catch the tranquil meekness
quite unlike

the clamor of rain
or the tumult of sleet,
horse hoofs that trample
the cobblestones —

garments with diamonds
descend,
clothe the naked branches,
there are no echoes
from their voiceless song,
no footsteps
to their elegant
dance.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

*** Photography: Winter Trees by T. Frarug