Two Miles Of Thoughts Poem by David Wood

A solitary walk along the
River path with autumn's
Damp golden and russet
leaves cushioning each
Step, watching the cold
River pass, eager to embrace
November's cold open sea.

The garden centre is only
A couple of miles a way
Where this Christmas
Tinsel hangs with a sleepy
Monotonous languor for
Someone to show interest
In todays squeeze on wallets
And purses.

I haven't had a Christmas tree
For a decade or more, not
Wanting to buy a once living
Sapling cut down in its youth,
Or a plastic one that would
Damage a tired fractured
Earth when it finds a new home
In landfill.

My two metre tall yuca plant will
Gladly be dressed in tinsel for
The occasion, now nearly two
Decades old and still growing.
Like most people, it doesn't
Understand the true meaning
Of Christmas being a pot plant.

Yet I believe it has more brains
Than some who celebrate this
Festive occasion by over spending
And over wanting everything they
Can see, can't see, or who bought
That they didn't think about five
Minutes before they saw it.

Thinking of someone special
And wanting to get closer, hoping
That I can get there and back
Without the heavens opening up
And thinking of the time I used to
Walk Clara, my yellow Labrador,
Along this gentle winding path
That also leads to a nearby lake.