Reflections of Humanity During a Snowstorm
Bristling yet beguiling winds are
driving snow sheets through the dark,
and, secured by brick and lamp,
I draw a comforter to my breast,
one woven by humanity.
I sense that each quickening gust
is pulling through the loom of time
life's many multi-colored threads.
A hickory brown is borne to me
of ships defying depths and dangers,
carrying dreams and heartaches.
Glistening now--the lucent blue
of fertile, percolating minds
genome maps and software.
I feel the orange of affection,
hearth and smiles and homecomings,
the warmth of song and story.
The blinking silver of fantasy,
visionaries, piercing sterility--
castles, stars, utopias.
Here is a filament of frothy pink
comedies, dances and levity,
play and spontaneity.
The looming strands of swarthy black
necessities, death, and armies,
relentless in their marching.
The golden promise of sacred texts,
altars, candles, hope,
encoded and translated.
Emerging, the green of recent growth,
rites of spring and passage,
learning and inner progress.
With such a large and lustrous blanket
in which to sink, like a new-born babe,
I'll toss some folds to you, as they will
easily stretch from here to there.
Copyright © Carol Mays | Year Posted 2015
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