Age-old Analysis

 I was sorting a bunch of photos into folders and realized, no wonder winter feels long this year! It had an early start.(yet, I find it hard to believe we are over half-way through January already!)

So long ago it seems the trees shrugged autumn’s coat from shoulders bare

Prepared to don snow-shawls and collars trimmed with ice-lace fare

The silver-green of morning sheen shimmers in memory

Or recollection of a season drenched in poetry

The little brook that plays its winter-tune in hollow-nook

Longs for the generosity of sunbeams in her crook

Those crimson maple leaf pontoons are shriveled on her banks

Where dusk is swift to lay long shadows in blue frozen planks

Time loves to toy with poet-pens and little girls and boys

Its playthings scattered like the aftermath of childish joys

And we sift through its remnants searching for something to keep

If only in a poet’s rhyme or whispers ere we sleep

The hedge that holds the nest once held the eggs and baby-bird

But, ever in the pulsing heart a keener cry is heard

To press toward the sky where gleams a Thing in perfect form

Earth’s creature bent on suffering a dreamer’s silent storm

Many a year has passed, my love, and many a year may come

Of green-leaf tree and snow-bound lea on time’s frolicking loam

As we, ever the hunters cannot keep from falling prey

To spring-summer-fall-winter as a lifetime slips away

© Janet Martin

..back to muffin-mixing and other winter pleasures I dearly enjoy:)