Wild

This poem was inspired by the changing of the season – from glorious summer to brooding winter.

I had opened my front door to a gust of wind that whipped leaves wildly about and I knew, absolutely knew, that winter was on its way.

It was a feeling tinged with sadness, and I recalled my primary school Geography lessons about the loss of the sun to the northern hemisphere – a feeling of envy almost.

Yet the sadness was replaced by a feeling on anticipation of the warmth and coziness of winter…….

 

Wild – the dawning day

Wind-wild

Cloud-wild

Impending storm-wild.

The fury of a new winter.

Wild.

Winter-wild.

 

Summer sun lost to a far horizon,

Where northern skins

Now bask in yellow-gold rays

Which once kissed our own

Once-golden faces

Upturned as in worship.

Summer sun.

Summer gone.

 

And we,

left to brace against bitter blusters

Of winter.

Wild.

 

Ah, but ponder hearths

And rosy cheeks against warm mugs

Sipping, and

Slipping

Between winter sheets, and

Feather down.

Lazily gazing

At the grey beyond.

 

Winter-bleak

Winter-beauty

Winter.

Wild.

 LJ

 

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