I Sit Alone With Winter
I sit alone with winter, wondering
what calls the arctic breeze to wandering
seducing, as it passes, everything
a silence only falling snow can bring
Ponder the dormant river ‘neath the ice
entrapped within its shorelines crushing vise
thinning shadows of geese who rolled the dice
feathers ruffling as wind exacts its price.
Faint clinking sounds of skeletal White Birch
thin ghosts of Christmas past in endless search
for meaning in this empty, frozen church
its congregation fled from swaying perch.
My presence decorates this Winter scene
a misplaced bulb upon an evergreen.
John G. Lawless
©12/14/2018
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