River of Light
In the stillness of a subzero night, the sky began to breathe
In the stillness of a subzero night, the sky began to breathe
The air in Churchill was crisp, the temperature well below zero, yet anticipation warmed me more than any fire could. The cold bit at my face, the kind of chill that seeps through every layer, but excitement kept me moving. It was my first night photographing the northern lights, and excitement filled every breath.
When word came the aurora had appeared, I rushed into the Arctic night, camera and tripod in hand. I hurried toward the treeline, snow crunching underfoot, and saw a faint shimmer above the pines. Through my lens, green light emerged, tracing the horizon like a living river.
The aurora flowed and shifted, painting the sky in motion, it drifted and danced, mirroring the tree line like a river of light. I knelt in the snow, transfixed, realizing that the universe wasn’t distant at all—it was alive and pulsing all around me.
In Celebration of Earth’s Resilience
©Gail Lipe 2025
Glowing ribbons of green burst
across the sky, stretching
as far as one can see.
Tall pine trees rise in
collaboration, a celebration
of earth’s wondrous nature.
Stars shining through the ribbon
and below become conduits
showering the earth in lights of
awe and admiration,
a reward for surviving humans.
Humbly the earth, snuggling under
a blanket of snow, breathes in
the accolades and compliments.
On this earth, humans are
ants in a garden,
yet we cause so much change.
Natural, gradual changes we
accelerate - baldcypress trees
becoming ghost trees,
global warming, small earthquakes
caused by fracking.
Changes in ecosystems -
wetlands become developments,
hunting to extinction,
interfering in the balance
of nature.
All while this living ball
continues to sustain us,
breathing and morphing
around us, and for us,
turning our changes into
something new.
Reprinted with permission from Gail Lipe
