the lonely snow
has no visitors now-
she sits along the trail
refusing to change.
she’s colder than her cousins
but doesn’t seem to mind-
til bugs and bees and butterflies
wake and crawl among the trees,
drunk from their winter’s slumber.
you’d think she’d have a hiding place
somewhere to scatter for awhile
somewhere hidden beneath the boulders
that crown the ridge-summit seats.
perhaps a cave would be a comfort
or deep within a fissure, yet
even that, she will not consider.
if someone’s going that way
be sure and stop and see her,
she may not be long on words
but I’m sure you’ll soon relieve her.
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About thelostkerryman
Thelostkerryman is an author, entrepreneur, and disciple- this side of Tir Na N'Og- living in the forests of a consistently confused country.
Here in this hill country, hurling doesn't usually involve a hurley, store-made soda bread resembles an inedible Irish megalith, and Kerrygold is only found hidden like a luck penny in the belly of Kroger.
This blog is an account of his adventures, thoughts, eclectic -and eccentric- ramblings, random or insightful poetry, humor and non-humor, pictures (photos), video, essays, fiction, poetic fiction, nonfiction, drama, and writing he has not classified in the description above.
All of my posts, thelostkerryman.wordpress.com, everydayasadisciple.wordpress.com, and mrandmrsboring.wordpress.com are copywrited according to international copywrite law.
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