snowfall on last october’s dead leaves
fills the silence of a february morning
with unexpected longing, and
i walk slowly through the cold, forgetting
when these paths were green
and hopeful, their summers not yet
brought to bear.
snowfall on last october’s dead leaves
fills the silence of a february morning
with unexpected longing, and
i walk slowly through the cold, forgetting
when these paths were green
and hopeful, their summers not yet
brought to bear.
As I wandered through your site looking for things “about” you, I found a photo of someone running by the locks…Seattle? I know of no other locks, myself being from Ballard.
Another great poem
Something must have happened between October and February that has prevented the snow to melt. Yet, there is a warm feeling coming from the poem.