Winter's Afternoon
On the rare occasion that inspiration happens to strike me, I may make an attempt at poetry. I've been working on a series called Human/Nature, which looks at human frailty reflected in nature. Here's one that I wrote about a year ago...
I took a walk in winter's afternoon
And suddenly, I was mindful
That I was not aloneAt first it was the tines of spruce
Starkly green on canvas of gray
Beautiful whispering fingersAnd did the birds begin their song
When my senses quickened
Or was I deaf and blind, 'til then?Mindfulness turned to wonder
As I considered the oak leaves
That remained on the treeWhat bound them to remain
Buffeted by wind and ice
In such a lonely state?Did not the kind Hand
That oversees the forest
Loose them, to fall and die?Or did they cling too long
To a glorious memory
Unable, or unwilling, to let go?