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,
lodged in the river,
unwilling to finish
the journey.
Winter holds fast
keeping us all
quiet, in stasis and ever
watchful
for tender spring.
That was lovely!
ReplyDeleteSh....let's enjoy this.
ReplyDeleteHi There, Beautiful picture.... That looks like a tiny waterfall!!!! I'd love to hear the trickle of water as the snow continues to melt.
ReplyDeleteHugs,
Betsy
Hard to imagine such beauty in this heat.
ReplyDeletesplendid - imagery and image!
ReplyDeleteThat is magnificent: the post in total, picture and poem. I really enjoyed them both.
ReplyDeleteThe photo and the poetry are beautifully matched and highly evocative. Excellent job Tabor!
ReplyDeleteBeautiful image and poem. You never disappoint me.
ReplyDeleteLovely, Tabor -just how cold would it have to get before your creative juices get too cold to flow?
ReplyDeleteAnnie at the Transplantable Rose
lovely verse. i am ready for spring though. smiles.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful photo and poem. They make me feel like I was there.
ReplyDeleteYou never cease to amaze me with your creative capacity for words! Such clever and descriptive words ...and phrases!
ReplyDeleteBeautifully illustrated with your camera too.
I'm smiling at Annie's comment :)