Donna
Autorin
The day is a catalyst.
Sun dancing atop hoar covered grass.
Ice -scabbed puddles.
A determined cold wind skates in morning hours.
Catches a squirrels bushed-up tail as he sits on a wooden fence.
Pushing him, startled he jolts, then scampers.
Chattering a short protest as he heads for shelter up a tree.
Mourning doves coo.
Despite winter's gloom.
Here too, a smiling sun touches their feathers.
This magical moment amidst the hustle of traffic below.
Nature is putting on quite a show.
Of serenity, harmony in conflicting climate; reminding to adapt......life goes on regardless if negative forces interfere.
All species attempting to pave a way.
Carve the best possible outcome of their time.
Those cocooned in cars.
Those exposed to the elements.
Me, sitting with quiet.
To hear what it can tell and reveal.
Meditating, taking note.
Already composing this poem before a word's written.
Absorbing.
Going over everything that's happening.
Where have I failed?
What can I make better?
What needs to be changed to secure a safer future?
Thousands of questions, few answers tumble.
Jumble in my mind, trying to sort a collection of highs and lows clashing, vying for space in that worried head of mine.
No matter what, I am grateful.
For here.
Now.
Just being.
While my heart is recovering.
Beautifully seeing.
©Donna H.
February 28, 2018
Sun dancing atop hoar covered grass.
Ice -scabbed puddles.
A determined cold wind skates in morning hours.
Catches a squirrels bushed-up tail as he sits on a wooden fence.
Pushing him, startled he jolts, then scampers.
Chattering a short protest as he heads for shelter up a tree.
Mourning doves coo.
Despite winter's gloom.
Here too, a smiling sun touches their feathers.
This magical moment amidst the hustle of traffic below.
Nature is putting on quite a show.
Of serenity, harmony in conflicting climate; reminding to adapt......life goes on regardless if negative forces interfere.
All species attempting to pave a way.
Carve the best possible outcome of their time.
Those cocooned in cars.
Those exposed to the elements.
Me, sitting with quiet.
To hear what it can tell and reveal.
Meditating, taking note.
Already composing this poem before a word's written.
Absorbing.
Going over everything that's happening.
Where have I failed?
What can I make better?
What needs to be changed to secure a safer future?
Thousands of questions, few answers tumble.
Jumble in my mind, trying to sort a collection of highs and lows clashing, vying for space in that worried head of mine.
No matter what, I am grateful.
For here.
Now.
Just being.
While my heart is recovering.
Beautifully seeing.
©Donna H.
February 28, 2018