If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away---Henry David Thoreau

Wednesday, January 21, 2009

Winter Meditation: a poem by Leo Hartshorn

snow lies on the ground
like a soft cotton blanket
you hate to walk through it
and disturb its pristine beauty
with offending foot prints

I sit listening
to a guitar winterlude
notes float like snowflakes
upon my ears
the silence outside
could crack the ice

the cold cotton blanket
causes me to dream
of a frozen past
wrapped in winter’s stillness
of a Dickens Christmas
and carriages and candles
of old Victorian houses
and wassail waiting
of chilled travelers
coming to the house
to warm themselves
while I dream
beneath the blanket
of silence

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