With skeletal fingers the trees in winter stretch to the sky
The cold Himalayan wind blows listlessly through the valley
Turning over dead leaves and sand as though counting beads
Overhead the falcons swoop and cry
Winter holds the cold grey landscape in a lover’s embrace
And wards off spring’s gentle, soft overtures
The valley has shrugged off the snow, venturing unclad
Under the icy sky, seeking the promise of summer sun
Yaks patiently cover the ground, eating what’s to be found
Stoic and uncomplaining they wait for winter to be done
Frozen prayers carried on the winter wind bring
Compassion to all and the whisper of the promise of spring
Deep purple barren slopes climb up to the snowline
Silver lakes carry the arid winter mountain’s echo
A monastery astride a mighty hill not cowed by nature’s splendour
Tiny hamlets cower in the Himalayas icy shadow
Shades of ochre and sienna streak the earth
And an icy silver grey river snakes across the land
Across the valley the mournful horns speak
Of bliss and days of colour and content
The monks’ deep litany swept on the wind
The drums and trumpets flare, bells ring
A call to mindfulness and the present moment
Here we are now: this is Ladakh at winter’s end
