Thursday, January 21, 2010

Brittle Waters




My breath is knife sharp.
The air is ice.
The forest is quiet,
except for the cold splash of water
pushed by latent
melting snow.
Brown-red leaves
cling in scooped layers
like rose petals 
against the broken stones
lodged in the river,
unwilling to finish
the journey.
Winter holds fast
keeping us all
quiet, in stasis and ever
watchful
for tender spring.


12 comments:

tattytiara said...

That was lovely!

lakeviewer said...

Sh....let's enjoy this.

Betsy from Tennessee said...

Hi There, Beautiful picture.... That looks like a tiny waterfall!!!! I'd love to hear the trickle of water as the snow continues to melt.

Hugs,
Betsy

Sarah Lulu said...

Hard to imagine such beauty in this heat.

Pauline said...

splendid - imagery and image!

Dave King said...

That is magnificent: the post in total, picture and poem. I really enjoyed them both.

Barry said...

The photo and the poetry are beautifully matched and highly evocative. Excellent job Tabor!

One Woman's Journey said...

Beautiful image and poem. You never disappoint me.

Annie in Austin said...

Lovely, Tabor -just how cold would it have to get before your creative juices get too cold to flow?

Annie at the Transplantable Rose

Brian Miller said...

lovely verse. i am ready for spring though. smiles.

Ily said...

Beautiful photo and poem. They make me feel like I was there.

Kerri said...

You never cease to amaze me with your creative capacity for words! Such clever and descriptive words ...and phrases!
Beautifully illustrated with your camera too.
I'm smiling at Annie's comment :)