Trees in Winter Winds

 —Poetry by David Calhoun, Hokes Bluff, AL
—Public Domain Photos Courtesy of
Joe Nolan, Stockton, CA

 

 

CURRENTS

Dark swirling water
Reflects the light
From the bridge
At night.

I wonder
What secrets lie
Under the dark
Winter sky?

Cold waters flowing,
Currents forming
And changing with a speed
That is alarming.

If this Coosa
Could talk
It would tell tales
From which strong men would battle

And also, perhaps
Sing us songs,
To lighten our spirits and flow us along,
As the currents flow swift and strong. 

 

 

 

HARVEST OF MEMORIES

A brisk fall breeze
From a sky so fair
Seems to refresh me,
As I partake of nature face.

The crisp carpet of leaves
That crunch under boot,
And the many colors,
Make you stop and just look.

The geese flying
On their winter journey home
Make you wonder,
How could they have known?

The woods are stilling,
Quietening down,
As the clouds gather,
And snow drifts quiet down.

Soon the woods will be in
Their winter sleep,
And all that is left of fall
Are the memories you can keep,
This harvest of beauty you surely can reap. 

 

 

 

 

WALKING AT NIGHT

I walk out
Into the deepening night,
For me it holds
No fright.

For there are things to see,
And to hear,
Perhaps a church bell,
Ringing sharp and clear.

Maybe the new moon,
Or the full,
And on the seas,
It has its pull.

I walk alone at night,
And have sometimes heard
The lonely sound
Like the wings of birds,

But it is only the leaves,
Just the leaves
Of the trees,
On the pavement skittering. 

 

 

 

 

TREES IN WINTER WINDS

Trees are beautiful, trees are bare,
Slender skeletons reaching into the air.
They sway and wave,
While around them, wild winds do rave.

Gust of wind, up to gale,
Want to know which are frail.
Giants some are, who stand so tall,
Even they, someday, will fall.

Winter winds, how they bawl,
So unlike spring, summer, or fall.
Their thirst for destruction, they slake
By seeing which trees will break.

Trees win over, for the winds at their peak,
No matter how they shriek and wail,
Blowing in lusty gales, through centuries cutting
paths,
The trees only laugh, for when one falls,
Another comes up into the path.

 

 

 

 

THINGS REMEMBERED

The morning sunshine
Slants gently through the trees.
Turning to gold,
The first autumn leaves.

The soft summer breezes
Are losing their warmth,
As a hint of a chill,
Lets the forest be fore-warned.

Soon the summer warmth
Will be but a memory,
As winter cloaks the hill
With its white mantle of mystery.

The woods will grow quiet,
Seemingly asleep.
Waiting, just waiting,
For the first green leaf.

 

 

 

 

DAWN

I stepped from the calm,
And greeted the dawn,
As soft and misty
As the eyes of a fawn.

The mountains majestic,
Reflected in the lake,
Make you glad
For each breath you take.

An eagle soaring,
Aloft in the air.
Coasting the currents,
So soft and fair.

The water so still
No ripples at all.
The trees standing sentry,
So straight and tall.

The day beckons,
Toward it I go.
What it will hold
I do not know,
Maybe I'll just watch the stream flow.

_________________

Today’s LittleNip:

Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky.

―Khalil Gibran, Sand and Foam

_________________

Kitchen Newcomer David Calhoun (father of Sam Calhoun, who recently visited the Kitchen), is retired and lives in Hokes Bluff, Alabama. He had his first-ever poems published just a few months ago at the young age of 70, at the encouragement of his son, Sam. His work has been published in Joyfully Wondrous, Darkly Beautiful, and Where in the World Magazine. David says, “I love nature and being in the woods, and that's almost all I write about.” Welcome to the Kitchen, David, and don’t be a stranger!

_________________

—Medusa

 

 

 

 David Calhoun

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 A reminder that Mosaic of Voices

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