Posted by: highmountainmuse | March 10, 2009

Poem of the late winter

A willow in winter

A willow in winter

There is something missing here in the winter

Hidden and reserved, buried and frozen

Dormant, silent and still

 

The white crystalline beauty of snow covered ground and quiet trails and no one around for miles but the mountain

 

The ground enclosed by the smooth white surface

The creeks and river roofed by ice and muffled by snow

Time is buried, dormant, frozen for months on end

 

The mountain hides all in winter

Secretive beneath the heavy snow load

Untouchable, out of reach

 

Life is missing

And I am longing for life

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Responses

  1. So beautiful! For a moment I was there, in the snow rather than here by the Bay. I love the silent, the still. For me, there is the most abundant life, even as I too await Spring!
    Blessings!

  2. Yet the Ravens still come, and the moose. So there are hopeful signs that life will be returning in full force with Spring.

    Loved your poem!

    Jack

  3. Thanks… I know, just when you think the world will be white forever… tomorrow I will walk over to the hillside about a mile away where I usually can find the first blades of grass coming through on a protected part of the hillside. Maybe there will be just one little blade of new growth, and that will be enough.


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