Winter’s Desk

Blank whiteness 
length and breadth of pages,
ready for dark wide words

The hillsides flow like pillows
matching the puffy cumulus
in the blue of sky

The thawing stream cuts
through beaver homes
and frog paddies

for singing in spring rains
to come; for now the woods
are as quiet as I am

sitting on this rock with my notebook
counting drips from the bank
into the water.

Poem by Jackiella

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Published in: on December 4, 2009 at 3:05 pm  Leave a Comment  

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