Wednesday, 10 February 2021

Snowless in Sadness Copse

 

 

 

 

 

 

No snow today, sadly, where I live

up on the hill a few feeble flakes

fly on a frisky breeze

then dematerialise

like the ghosts of winters past.

Still, I find comfort in the crisp cold,

wrapped in warm clothes

yet not wholly insulated

from the rasp of raw elements

recurrently connecting me

with the same

instant.

 

Walking on, I relish

the firmness of the frozen earth

beneath my feet, no longer mud-sliding,

as they carry me, unconsciously

to Sadness Copse, which is

strewn with recent memories:

fire-blackened cinders, manoeuvred logs

and the familiar, familial

feel of the place.

A place of refuge, where

I once went

with friends

to salve our sadness

with the balm of companionship.

 

Today - alone, snowless, sad -

I’m consoled instead

by the stark, leaf-stripped trees,

the ice-cold clarity of the air

and the tiny tips of emerging bluebell buds.

I’m minded, and reminded, to believe

That whilst friends still have their place,

In this place, I’ve founded a friend.

 

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