A winter’s flower.
How do I disgrace thee.
When you provide me with such symmetry.
An all seasons charm.
How could I not seek but always see.
And, though the footpath is slow
to where you are.
The earthen tones splendor like a distant star.
Winter’s flower by Tree Farm Loop…
take a left off Baptist Hill road.
Near where the Shakers grow old.
You see, here, along the northeast…
a mile is forever on a country lane
In the arm’s of nature, Mother’s face, prolongs my existence.
Her silhouette disheveled, fetal and beyond my wandering.
I felt that one step forward and one step back only released my defects.
This lonely, disparaged pond and her trail praises those that are rampant, quiet and egotistically…frail.
So, I come back down (always) a downy lane.
Bluster and sustain-ably sane.
Still a history still….not so plain.
There is an act of self preservation in the first snow.
The way it comes, harsh and plentiful.
The way it goes, minus song and repose.
I had begun to think these times were not for me.
Melted moments of yesteryear’s atrocities.
Now I ponder upon granite stone.
Blowing in the wind of unknown.
To never find kindness in the bitter and caressing skin of frost.
Will be just another loss.
To think of it as anything more…would be absurd.
Justified gifts bestowed upon the earth.
Pungent, musky, society, woven into the fabric of our lives.
Tantalizing temples of shades and hues.
A touch of the silky skin.
Simple mid-season delicacies…Nothing more… than it needs to be.