Warm Winter's Day
My walk was solemn, not solely because I was physically alone,
But because I was unable to view anything around me beyond
A circumference that, extending no farther than my wingspan,
Prevented my sight from distracting me from my thoughts.
The dreary fog calmly waved through the unsettling branches of a still oak tree
And my mind became a sudden oasis of conundrums, unspoken- yet I heard them.
A poetic discharge of unattainable words I so desperately wished I had in my possession
Elapsed me.
Arms of branches reached out towards the leveled clouds of watered air
Desperately aching for moisture to feed them in hopes that spring would return.
Hangings of dew dripped from the coverings of the naked fortress
Standing so tall, yet so bare.
The wind remained silent, perhaps to spare the water a few more precious moments
And I, not wanting to breach this unspoken protection of earth’s drink
Lifted the bottoms of my pants to preserve the prolonged evaporation.
I was held there, in the soul of a warm winter’s day
Longing for the desertion of the cold to bring the end of this phase
I prayed for the quiet fog to take with it
My remorse, my thoughts that refused to escape me
I needed for the tall oak to absorb in it what remained of my pride
For it is not emotionally alive and cannot be marred because of an excess of self righteousness.
But I, fragile, walked with the ends of my cotton tailored pants seeping up the water
Of an earth so unforgiving of her faults.
And though I may become heavy at times, the dampness is not enough
To drown me.
the fog is not enough to capture me in the barreling suspension of time
this warm winter day is not enough to illude me towards false hopes of an early spring.
But because I was unable to view anything around me beyond
A circumference that, extending no farther than my wingspan,
Prevented my sight from distracting me from my thoughts.
The dreary fog calmly waved through the unsettling branches of a still oak tree
And my mind became a sudden oasis of conundrums, unspoken- yet I heard them.
A poetic discharge of unattainable words I so desperately wished I had in my possession
Elapsed me.
Arms of branches reached out towards the leveled clouds of watered air
Desperately aching for moisture to feed them in hopes that spring would return.
Hangings of dew dripped from the coverings of the naked fortress
Standing so tall, yet so bare.
The wind remained silent, perhaps to spare the water a few more precious moments
And I, not wanting to breach this unspoken protection of earth’s drink
Lifted the bottoms of my pants to preserve the prolonged evaporation.
I was held there, in the soul of a warm winter’s day
Longing for the desertion of the cold to bring the end of this phase
I prayed for the quiet fog to take with it
My remorse, my thoughts that refused to escape me
I needed for the tall oak to absorb in it what remained of my pride
For it is not emotionally alive and cannot be marred because of an excess of self righteousness.
But I, fragile, walked with the ends of my cotton tailored pants seeping up the water
Of an earth so unforgiving of her faults.
And though I may become heavy at times, the dampness is not enough
To drown me.
the fog is not enough to capture me in the barreling suspension of time
this warm winter day is not enough to illude me towards false hopes of an early spring.