Saskatchewan’s Breath !!!
Comes on days that are long, steely and very cold.
It comes on winds that are strong, steady and bold.
Majestic little ladies try standing erect, against Saskatchewan’s
breath
in their fragile, Autumn colours of golds, browns,
yellows and reds.
He rings those bells - telling of winters cold hand of
death –.
With great and greater force, Saskatchewan’s breath
blows their heads,
bends their limbs without the passion and grace of a
strippers dance.
Saskatchewan’s, cold, cruel breath – like a mad man
rapist –
tears at, and strips them of their colourful gowns
with little chance
to hide their nakedness for a moment longer – no fig
leaf in his tempest
left for them - to greet winters white blanket – with or
to enhance
the bleakness that old man winter brings – laying all
else to rest
in frozen slumber – cryogenic freeze – in ice age arms
of Morpheus,
until spring bounces back – rejuvenates life into
rebirth –
bringing renewal, bringing hope for one and all of us
and smiles upon us weary old souls waiting for a green
earth
to come to life under our tired old feet – lift our
spirits to the skies
bringing joy, pleasures and wonder to our tired old
eyes
as we look forward to seeing our – world – babies grow
into the wanders that are soon gone, as we surly know
- deep within – how this universe ( our little world )
turns.
Deep within our souls, there are places that yearns
to see a light through the darkest night – a spirit
burns
with passion, with delight, yet knows and has concerns
about what lies in the darkness, behind passions eminent
glow.
Sight, knowledge and wisdom, to many, come wings so
slow
and in such small pieces, – in fragmented minute
flakes –
tiny specks of light from the subconscious for
consciousness sake.
So, until the end, nothing but questions – memories we
will take
into that elusive light, where knowledge and wisdom it
will make
us come to see, see the essence, true life in this universe
as the life of this rhyme comes to an end in verse.
B. J. “A” 2
October 6th 2005
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