wintry musings (for Lan)

the sky   a steel gray wasteland
the veiled sun   a diffused light
is it morning or near night
a bare tree ramrod straight
defies the horizontal temper of the day

twelve blackbirds play at being leaves
silhouetted against the now silver sky
all fly away at once   east west north south
now the tree’s stark mottled bark seems
made of stone sprung from the earth

my eyes feel more alive than my heart
a heart hushed as her mute puzzlement
traveling through the wilderness
of forgetfulness   a desert of timeless time
I hear a horn blast   a sigh   a whimper

*    *   *

© Gregory V Driscoll  2013

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