A brief story poem of solitude and ice, dream and journey.
Mother with Child
quiet in this deep wild
She smiles when I come around
Afternoons I bring white rose petals
fallen from my gardens in bloom
Drop my offering slow to soft earth
Then settle awhile
beneath a canopy of peace green
Read one chapter aloud
to anyone gathering here.
Reflections on Life, Spring, and Other Things.
So Dylan’s eighty
What message to send his way
Life and life only
You don’t have to fly
Knowledge holds the sight in you
Wings like silent peaks
How silent is night
You, these stars, and candlelight
Tomorrow on hold
We are alone, yet we observe others even in solitude.
We meet. Events emerge. Come together. Then part.
You must be shoeless
to feel stepping stones
You must be quiet
to hear songs of ancient bones
You must be ready
to catch a star
when it arrives midday