and then reclaim, a poem

 

I like to window shop

the length of my days,

to tarry in the moments

of crimson skylines,

rising blooms,

and the stirring scent

of forest silence,

for as long as I have

the gift to reflect,

I am rarely dismayed.

It matters not,

if coldness sets in,

nor if the stretch

of skylight

is hid beneath

graying shrouds,

I have not forgotten…

Even in the busy stir

of life in the city,

I still hear the birdsong

held within the forest

and in a moment’s rest,

I seek it out here,

in the song

of swooping blue jay,

cooing dove,

and woodpeckers perched

high up in the trees.

Their song

is reminiscent

of my own soul’s

longing to sing.

In winter, now,

I watch the horizon

slowly pale,

I see the outstretched,

naked limbs of trees

scratch across a naked sky,

praying for sun

and I feel

the absence of color,

the browning out

of pasture, field, and valley,

the withered leaves

of yesterday

beyond restoration.

I know

this is the cycle of things

the fleshing out nature’s breath

and even in these hindered moments,

beauty speaks.

It may require an open heart

and eyes to see

and perhaps some faith

in the recurring crawl

toward momentous birth

to have

to lose

and then reclaim.

 

© Sumyanna 2017

 

Image courtesy of Pixabay.com