It seems to me that the best part of skiing is coming home to relax. So this next poem is basically that I don't claim it to be anything more than a clump of sensual experiences I have recently enjoyed.
Merry christmas to all and to all a good night!
After He Wanders
As I wandered in the maple sun
Icicle storms born to drip
Filled the sky line
With the essence of a Christmas
White and simpler
Woods elm and hickory
dripped on smokey tails
Salty tender sticky sweet
As I wandered the lightning powder piled high on sullen slopes
Where I dreamt of being back
by the fire curling naked toes by a
Naked flame.
A collection of poems and musings by a rookie poet and constant dreamer - J.O.S.H
No comments:
Post a Comment