Long Seasonsme Poems
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I sit and pause, looking at the sky blue ceiling above me. White vapour cotton wool clouds
gently float like water lilies on an upside down pond. My humble seat, an igneous rock
from the Devonian period. A glaciation past has moulded this comfort to rest this weary
climber. I am in fortunate delight as this skyscraper of old can turn nasty with nature.
These marvels can unite and lure unsuspected hikers, and draw them into a weather world
they have never known. The gulley's and faces of this quite wonderful Munro hide
challenges and dangers for all who dare climb. Many have been lost as they become
disorientated, as natures weather closes in.
The ascent route to the summit on a day like today is quite wonderful. The beauty of the
glens, with their sporadic mix of andesite and basaltic lava mountains, rival many a range
on our fine planet. Many colours explode on the surrounding canvas. Greens and beige's,
greys mingling with red granite masses. Screes are in evidence, a sign of the range ageing
as natures seasons take their toll. Plant life carpets the slopes, where grasses of sorts
mingle with the purple and white heather. Ferns from a prehistoric age fan out catching
the breeze, like Sea´ ferns´ in the ocean.
As i climbed, at various intervals i would close my eyes and listen to the calls of the
wild. The sporadic bleating of sheep, as if echoing through the glens. Crows and their
hooded cousins fly sorties looking for carrion of such. Suddenly they scatter, as royalty
makes a welcomed appearance. As majestic as the King of the mountains can be, a Golden
Eagle glides on the thermals. His subjects looking on from a distance, for fear of
angering him. Rabbits, lizards and even sheep and lambs, bow down in whatever chambers of
safety allows them. As graceful as he arrived, he leaves. Slowly but slowly, the lookouts
of the species declare their haven a safe zone.
This climb has certainly given me a thirst, as the thinned mountain air leaves me tired.
Nearby a small stream offers a weary climber a much needed tonic. This pure fresh
translucent chemical substance quenches my crave, with a gentle splash over my sun beaten
face, i feel refreshed to a point.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-3.php
Many yesterdays ago,
I shut myself out
from everyone and everything,
just lied there waiting to die;
with no friends to come by and say hello,
to make me laugh like a clown:
when my moods were at a stand-still,
and I was about to cry...
Too glad to reveal my moment
and share it even with a stranger...
how loneliness held me in bondage,
and wouldn't release me from its tight hand;
so happy to enjoy every sun-ray,
which feels better when the dog-woods gently sway,
and spring offers more than it can:
and accepting this gift, I am greeted by a new friend!
If smiles make one look younger,
and promise a longer life...why
was its secret kept from me?
I wish...I had smiled more often, to have never
been surrounded by fretful shadows,
and be spoken to by morbid voices;
all the hopelessness and despair would have been unfelt,
and none of the memories would have lingered on regret...
Too glad to reveal my moment,
a moment so joyfully expressed by words,
and emotions that no longer remain silent;
so excited to declare this freedom with a loud sound:
even without wings, I would soar over those clouds!
Confide in me, hesitant friends...no road is too smooth,
and no unnourished tree can bear an exquisite fruit;
plant your seed today, plant it where the rains abound!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
This cold winter rain makes me lazy.
I miss the warm sunshine of fall.
All I want to do is to rest.
It seems I've no energy at all.
I long for the coming of spring
When my spirit and the earth are reborn.
For the drab winter weather saddens me
And leaves me feeling forlorn.
This season has barely begun
And I'm already wishing it gone.
I miss the clear skies above
And the bird's chatter greeting the dawn.
Winter can be so depressing,
Especially when you're alone.
The rain, the snow and the cold, cold wind
Leaves me feeling weary to the bone.
I count the days till it's over
And the spring arrives at last.
Three more months is a long, long time
To live life with skies overcast.
Autumn has dressed up in pretty auburn
by pulling all the lifeless leaves
off the dormant, cold trees;
and every bird, that once thrilled everyone's heart,
has glanced upon this scenery and sadly gone south,
and I like them...I dream of a spring in green!
Under these swift feet the dry leaves of November crack,
and my path feels hard and is visible no more;
here and there, I trip on a hidden stone
which slows me down as a reminder of the winter's whack...
when heavy snowfalls and violent storms will batter this paradise,
but who else will call upon imagination and fantasize?
Days and months I'll check off my calendar:
December with its first snowflakes and ice...
gleaming on my soft and distant meadow;
January covering everything with soft snow,
February with its constant gelid skies,
and March bringing back the songbirds to my door!
Unmerciful winter, don't let this aloneness curb my freedom,
once in a while entice it with the spurious presence of sunshine...
not disobliging my wishes and turning me into a butterfly:
to revive a vision of the of bluest skies where clouds roam;
by a riverside I will lay in comfort...glazing its flow,
until this newly found joy will end any thought of sorrow!
Copyright 2008 by Andrew Crisci