Afternoon in Winter
Winter: the season for hibernation,
Slowing the heartbeat and metabolism;
A time of early darkness and forgetting.
A torpid season for creatures —
Pudgy black squirrel scrabbles leadenly,
So small when projected against the grim sky.
It seems much easier to forget when
Cold death blankets what lived, and
Ice shrouds windows and walkways.
Now is the time to reflect on the weeks
And the seasons which have passed me by,
Most of which I would prefer to
Forget.
© Bridget Noonan, 2009, 2012.
This was a weird poem that I had intended to be from the point of view of a tree in the winter, but I cut or changed pretty much all the parts that referenced it, so now I sound like I need a hug.
beespoetry 