At Winter's End

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