gusts of
wind begin to blow
eerily
the trees are creaking
swirling,
twirling powdered snow
I can
hear the branches squeaking
trying
to keep the heat from leaking
I place
a blanket by the door
on the
window frost is sneaking
we
listen to the furnace roar
while
not all wounds result in scars
and
often things can be concealed
not
every night do we see stars
clouds
or feelings act like a shield
sometimes
the cuts we thought were healed
or
constellations we can’t see
quickly
return and are revealed
exposing
things we can not flee
the
constant swaying of the trees
from
them a lesson we should take
the
winter air, a steady breeze
bend
with the wind so not to break
but with
high winds the boughs do shake
shedding
branches that are fragile
while
leaving litter in its wake
the older trees are much less agile
instinctively
you grab your phone
when you
hear that distinctive ring
don’t
worry you are not alone
it’s
called “classic conditioning”
and yes,
it is a real thing
pick up
the phone and don’t ask why
just
mindlessly reach for that ring
reacting
to a stimuli
I see
the roses in full bloom
though
the garden’s been neglected
so I no
longer can assume
roses
need to be protected
left
alone yet still perfected
and the
flowers turned out fine
their
resilience is respected
although the garden’s in decline
the beams have sagged, the timbers bowed
door wide open, hinges busted
the
ceiling droops as pipes corrode
the
railing’s broke, the iron rusted
the
stairs creak and can’t be trusted
the
floors begin to rot in place
window
sills are now encrusted
the
earth will soon reclaim this place
when other
people set the pace
you have
a greater chance to lose
you’ll
never win a single race
while
wearing someone else’s shoes
it’s
always up to you to choose
just how
to start, how to begin
so, pay
attention, read the cues
and heaven knows you just might win
it’s my choice, it’s my decision
to live along a dead end road
just the way that I envision
the pace of life is somewhat slowed
and no one cares if lawns get mowed
where kids ride bikes on roads of gravel
and maybe learn a better code
to help when life starts to unravel
we view the world through weary eyes
and see the things we want to see
so it should come as no surprise
we seek out people who agree
but maybe that is not the key
by seeing different points of view
instead of people just like me
I’ll look for people more like you
like
those before who’d made the trip
they
came in waves from distant lands
with
wooden trunks they boarded ships
with
hopes and dreams and well laid plans
worldly
possessions in their hands
took
their chances and faced their fears
reasons
everyone understands
they
waved goodbye and held back tears
