Wall to wall.
Rushing waters so fast they imply a stall.
Winter’s root seems to have loosened her pace.
There is abrasion to her typically, smooth surface.
Everyday, I pass by a downy path.
I can only assume it leads to a dark tundra of creations unknown.
the wild-birds echo a refrain to their song…
I am in their home.
Puffs of once frozen,
Have turned into slushy, sodden, remains of the days.
The earth has bared all the select, segments, she will.
I turn a footprint towards the path of no end.
Smiling to myself,
this courage is just pretend.
There are eccentricities about time that many… will never get.
Similar to chasing the family pet.
There is a mortal need to have it all around.
Thou, it is injured and too tightly wound.
It may surface that there are brisk critics regaled for being too passionately black.
And, those willing to make the ‘devil’s pact.’
As followed, before, the ache arrived, minutes filled the air.
As original as, the snowflakes in which we place our grateful cares.
Mind over the matters of time.
The pain of neutral.
No joy from fast forward or rewind.
For myself, revelations, on a dusky December day,
That, I too, conceded,
from the comfort of living in the in between.
There had been a frozen dust to the air.
It covered my tracks…
Or, considerate me…
I found myself not lost…for I never looked back.
The Winters are so short—
I’m hardly justified
In sending all the Birds away—
And moving into Pod—
Myself—for scarcely settled—
The Phoebes have begun—
And then—it’s time to strike my Tent—
And open House—again—
It’s mostly, interruptions—
My Summer—is despoiled—
Because there was a Winter—once—
And al the Cattle—starved—
And so there was a Deluge—
And swept the World away—
But Ararat’s a Legend—now—
And no one credits Noah—
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.