Empty Eyes
You once held inside yourself
the glowing warmth of home.
You have known the rushing flood of birth,
felt the lightning sting of death
lash deep into your chambered heart.
You have seen the changing seasons
of a hundred passing years.
Weathering the storms of generations
who sought solace in your bosom.
Just last week I noticed
That your once bright eyes were empty,
and then you were no more
Now, I stand alone in this place
as the snow sifts, soundless
through the pines.
**
Southern Winter
Stripped of festive fall garb
the trees stand naked,
unabashed,
with no blanket of snow
hiding their true forms.
Bare branches dance
in the chill wind
like pagan women,
sky-clad,
in a ritual older than time.
Green cloaked pines
Stand as conspicuous
amidst the starkness
as costumed bathers
upon a nude beach.
Winter birds feast
on seeds scattered
upon the Earth’s exposed breast,
calling in joyful notes
to announce their pleasure.
A thin filigree of ice
Just edges the lake,
Never covering
the unadorned honesty
of a Southern winter.
