Thursday, December 30, 2010

Walking in December - A poem

Walking in December

fingers sliding down the skin
bare branch, the lungs
expelling oxygen, carbon
dioxide, and a desire
for lush, green leaves
on every, single tree.

footprints fall fresh
in the snow, a scampering
squirrel scared by the sound
of on-coming traffic,
loud talking, and the cracking
of ice beneath the surface.

looking up now, seeing so clearly
how the sun can stand tall
in a deep, blue sky, and yet
has completely abandoned us,
so that no amount of bark
could ever cover us,
keep us from the wind.

what good is the word love
when we fail to care
for even the most simplest
of things in life? like touching
down on earth, the heel
and toes in tandem,
until the last breath is taken.

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Creative Writing the Dharma by nathan thompson is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.
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