When I in winter gloaming walked
trees like arms, skeletal,
grasping at steel grey sky
rattling bones in bitter wind
Leaves rustle; dried wrappings
of some ancient personage
tattered, blowing across
forest floor in abstract piles
The trees offer no shelter
no respite from the cold
atavistic in presence
emotionless in intent
Step after step crunches through
ice, snow, branch, dead leaf
announcing presence to all
who may be listening
In summer
this was escape
deep
greens, woods atwitter
with birds,
trees softly
brushing
against each other
Rabbit and
squirrel running
across the
forest floor,
eating and
cautiously avoiding
the eyes of
hawk and owl
That time is past, summer sun
nothing but imagination
warm breeze little more than
figment of imagination
Hawks fly from tree to tree
shaking down snow
searching for familiar prey
now hidden deep in burrows
huddled together against the cold
stores of food to while away
long dark winter months
Until sun rises, and spring returns
Julie K.
16 October 2015
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