On grey days the trees
Stand twisted and gnarled
And silent as they
Yearn for the cover of snow
That has failed them.

Records broken and I
Retreat to the mountains ~
But they too, have failed me -
A retreat no more.

Wispy air and loss of cool -
I stand humbled as
Mother Earth and Father Time
(or, Abba Father)
Can only tell the realities of
The damage we have done.

At this moment a flake descends,
But sadly she and her friends
Only greet us in passing so
As not to overstay their welcome ~
Not that I blame her.

Some day we will look back
As we did on the tragedies of
Slavery, imperialism, and selfishness
And tell our children ~

Just what were we thinking?


Copyright 2007 - jms

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