Member Poem

DECEMBER WOODS

The distinctive crackle of dry curled leaves underfoot
As the path is trodden through this cold winter wood
The silent air hangs suspended, as if it’s still uncertain
About the grey clouds above, just like a heavy curtain
And for years, silent trees in their eerie solitude stood
Observant yet unmoving in silhouette, as black as soot

The quiet is welcome but in a sense, also feels strange
A lone walk, as the weak sunset light is fading to dark
At one with nature, but considered an interloper still
As the winter’s powerful hunger has not yet had its fill
The last days of autumn have already made their mark
A thick carpet of brown leaves having signalled change

Eventually upon this silent forest, a darkness descends
And seen through the trees, is just a pale white moon
Yet beyond sight, other senses start to come into play
A faint reminder of natural life left over from the day
The rustle of remaining leaves will be quiet quite soon
Aware of friendly warnings that the night time sends