Sunday, December 7, 2014

Winter's Waiting-room





Oh, brook bereft of swoon
Oh, field bereft of sheaf
Oh, afternoon bereft of tune
By trees bereft of leaf

How still the barren hill
Of winter’s waiting-room
Within its sweep of umber deep
Sleeps summer’s soldered plume

Oh, gracious interlude
Of meadowland repose
Above the tomb of bud and bloom
A sea of silence flows

Oh, winter-ready ground
How cold and still you lie
The hour bereft of every sound
But Nature’s naked sigh

© Janet Martin

It was the silence that struck me when I was out today...clear, cold and still!

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