Wednesday, 15 February 2017

The Fortitude of Fallen Foliage

Often is winter's arrival mourned
as an icy season of bitter death
but I find it rather a time adorned
with the opportunity for fresh breath.

The solstice is dark and hard to endure
and it represents the pessimist's peak,
but after that those dark days are fewer
and the skies steadily appear less bleak.

So do not mourn the fallen rusted leaf
separated from the embrace of the tree
but rather take solace in the belief
that it will benefit from flying free.

The fallen leaves, once so solemn, stir
from the comforting pick-up in the air.

Saturday, 11 February 2017

A Cold and Lonely Embrace

Nothing stirred the
empty flaking seat; -
not even the leaves cast
off of tall pines
dared to take spot from the empty chest
that waited for its missing piece to come.

And so they waited, taking half the bench
and watching the frail hands of the watch tick
steadily ahead to disappointment
and to empty arms resting on cold knees

As the shadows of the trees slowly grew
the face of the watch shined in the sunset,
the hours opening the metal arms
as if to console the teary-eyed soul.

Crying into a Coffee Cop

He gazed at his vacuous visage
in the treacled reflection of black coffee,
as its steadiness is displaced by his laboured breath
from his own brooding reflections.
A gulp goes down, to ease his burning throat
and then another displacement
as the tear weaves from his gossamer lash
into the bullseye of the cup.