Whose woods these are I think I know
His house is right beside me though
I cannot bring myself to go
Within, though they entice me so.
Quiet brown strength of solid wood standing
On red-brown bed of autumn hued hilllside and
Grey and dark receding and dove grey distance and
Copper paper memories pretending colours and
Love-laced tracings of snow on branches
Above and within
All-reaching into white-greyness of air
And silence
And stillness
No comments:
Post a Comment