Winter landscape
Rivers like roots
binding sea to land.
Forests silent at dusk;
mist rising like breath,
from the slow rhythm of winter hills,
like ancient cattle,
gathered at the gate of spring.
Pause with me a moment,
stay quiet, and let your eye
fall and rise through valleys
dissolved in clouds.
Then you may hear it too –
soft and distant, that insistent tap,
from underground tunnels and hidden lairs,
buried caves and just-thawed mud,
of seeds unfurling and bulbs cracking;
of worms uncurling and mice turning,
buds glinting and sap stirring –
for chaotic awesome life
is sleeping yet,
but like the restless dragon on her hoard,
she is about to blink.
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The last image inspired by watching The Hobbit on Christmas Eve (which I thought was good, despite anticipating a reaction against an excess of Middle-Earth…). Posted at Poets United.
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