Early Winter Poems Continued

Three winter poems.  In the first, I watched as a cat tried to catch a bird on the snow.  In the second, I was driving home from my second job and it was dark and snowy and I was a bit sleepy.  Finally, I was walking one day and being very careful and saw a foot print.  Enjoy!

.

Providence

By Scott L Vannatter

12/16/85

.

.

Soft pad, feather-light step upon the fresh mounds.

Hardened by the cold, the Tom creeps forward.

.

Small sparrow, unknowing prey, tips across, tiny beak

darting in-out, gathering small bits of bites.

.

Within reach the neck ripples, ready for launch,

sinews stand tight, flexed by instinct.

.

Front paws, claws out, stretch upward, hungrily.

White buckles and opens its maw, swallowing coldly.

.

Taking flight, the young bird sails over the saving crevasse,

the yellow eyes gleaming from the depths.

___________________

Silent White

By Scott L Vannatter

12/16/85

.

.

Lights fade, dead noise, only tread on ice,

A steady hum, reminder of the world, not distraction.

Half a length  of the long arm to talk me-to-me.

Quiet conversations, the night folding, the stakes pulled.

Half-dream, the world screams with silence.

Strings of white stretch car-to-car, a chain of brightness,

ready to wrap the tree.

Vent on, the fresh chill wakens, window down, clearness shines.

.               White ball of cold light glistens the snow hump,

.                 stretching shadows long, spot-shine of purity,

.                   star-covered earth sending points back.

.          Past, present, future all rolled thoughts jumping, merging,

.               all time as one, no time, everytime

.           Thoughts groping, hoping for answers, but none.

.          Then beauty creeps in, crowding out and love answers.

_______________________

Memories of Snow

By Scott L Vannatter

?

.

.

Trudging up the white mounds to the walk,

steps icy, glassy, frosted ground-windows of water,

fear of quick descent into blackness, I move slowly.

.

At the upward corners I spy a memory.  Little shape,

sole-in-snow, a print, not unlike a camera creation, the

ridges are ant-mountains, zig-zag pointers showing the

Have been, was once.

.

Movement transformed to solidness, the journey continued,

is continuing, will continue – memories remain.

.

Some deeper, touching ground, concrete, foundationary.

These tiny remembrances of play and childhood fade

into the day, forgotten but by one.

______________________

Namaste,

Scott

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Comments

  • Larry  On June 8, 2013 at 8:02 pm

    I’ve enjoyed this series very much. It is fun to see your growth over the years. Thanks for sharing.

    Like

    • kindredspirit23  On June 8, 2013 at 11:07 pm

      Your responses have been a good part of me keeping this up. So, thanks.
      I have a few more, then back to normal (for me).
      Scott

      Like

      • Larry  On June 11, 2013 at 10:50 am

        Thanks again! I appreciate it!

        Like

  • thehappyhugger  On June 8, 2013 at 12:47 am

    Good poems Scott.

    Like

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