The trees will soon be barren, all. It is that time of year -- the Fall. The understory never was, and can't now house the insect buzz. And, so, the woods stand silently -- nothing treads in peace, nor violently. It's empty; devoid of motion: life hides below, as in Oceans. It does feel like we're out to sea - a strange place where both sides are lee. And - so - we're stuck, we can't move on, but can see promise over yon.
my breath mingles with a bright white moon, on a cold winter night.
winter sky mixes: thick clouds, thin clouds, no clouds. light dances, briefly.
winter sunset: clouds soften at the edges. the world blurs.
Out into a winter night, with snow and silence and fright. What's beyond the torch's light? Rubber boots on crunching snow. Oh, how far we have to go. An hour's trudge until sun glow gathers on the horizon. Then walk 'til the day is done -- again abandoned by the sun. We'll set up camp in the dark, try to get flame from a spark, and dread when next we embark... a few hours down the line.
I I remember Spring: tight and tender buds, soon to blossom clouds -- low & swollen, & rain scent in the air
II I remember Summers: the season of freedom... and mosquitoes, but, also, fireflies exploration & calamine lotion
III I remember the Fall: harvest time Grain chaff in the air axle grease on the wind Canadian geese Honk-Honk-Honk-ing in wedge formation
IV
I remember winters:
snow days
snow drifts
the feel of the first morning
of the season in which
one woke up to a blanketing snow,
having gone to bed with
pathetic matted grass
fall leaves will drop, and the winter river view will be unhindered.
frozen silence.
but for the rustle of breeze
against dry grass.
snow will come,
and a crust of snow
will settle in crystalline
interlock with the brown stalks.
the snow will absorb sound,
muffling reality,
until nothing remains but
frozen silence.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 