i am wintering in a cedar-shingled chalet in the northern highlands mindful of a waning eventide as a ribbon of light waxes on the distant horizon tethered to the land by drifts of snow and icy roads i am wintering in the still and silent beauty of winter
i am an old house fierce, proud, steady, and strong i lean into the wind i may crack and whistle i may splinter and moan yet i will not waiver i am the "people's" home
This poem was inspired by recent events in our nation's capital and this sketch by CF William Mielatz , which can be found in the Smithsonian American Art Museum.
In the last days before the ending he anguished. Haunted by a public life, lived on the wrong side of history, isolated by privilege, entrenched in an old-world ethos, he lacked the perspective to see the interconnected reality of the human experience. His legacy haunts history reaching its long arm into present day where a once great nation remains divided.
