Faith is now quite uncertain. I'm no longer acting-as-if.
Monday, December 18, 2017
WINTER POEM
WINTER POEM
The bleak winter landscape, Brushed with faint color Slips slowly into twilight, Bodes an ending, conveys A sadness for dying things, Weighs on the heart.
Thanks, Susan. I wasn't quite as sad as the poem makes me seem. I tried to add a third stanza that was more hopeful, but it didn't work. The Muse doesn't visit often, so I listen to her when she comes.
very beautiful, and very sad.
ReplyDeleteThanks, Susan. I wasn't quite as sad as the poem makes me seem. I tried to add a third stanza that was more hopeful, but it didn't work. The Muse doesn't visit often, so I listen to her when she comes.
DeleteWhat a fine poem. If it weren't for the skies you get this time of year, it might be really bleak.
ReplyDeleteThank you very much, TTC. Indeed, if it weren't for the skies...
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