The trees are closed,
windows shuttered
in rain soaked skin,
roots lavished
with winter’s water,
their buds a rosary
along each branch
filled with darkness
on the long return to light.
The trees are closed,
windows shuttered
in rain soaked skin,
roots lavished
with winter’s water,
their buds a rosary
along each branch
filled with darkness
on the long return to light.
Beautiful imagery, especially for a recovering Catholic!
Together with Solstice this poem speaks to the feeling of the darkest days of winter and the sense of waiting for spring as it begins to emerge ever so slowly. This one seemed timed to remind me that I skipped church today for the first time in months…..:) As I have said in the past your poems are a like a short but very targeted sermon – like going to church.
Thank you, Don. This is “no hurry” season, a time of gestation for those buds. Winter brings its own grand beauty. No hurry for the next season. And, when its right, a voice will shout out of Heaven, “THESE BUDS ARE FOR YOU!”
Nice combination of the pagan with a Catholic image. Really, this is a haiku. 😇😇
I also thought haiku. Very lovely.
Ohh…splendid….right to the nub of the winter time.
Winter’s Light, a koan into the mystery of beginnings and endings.
Lovely poem, thanks.
What a wonderful image for this man.