Winter On Display
By Curtis Johnson
There I stood, quietly and still, with a frozen stare through my patio door.
The awesome portrait of life, so dominating most of the year, has lost its lure.
This time, it’s not the forest that I behold, but it’s the sleeping trees that I see.
Much of life’s greenery will change, rearrange, and suffer pain; none will disagree.
In my back yard, there stands a fence laced and hidden, in a fading sea of green.
Gone is the luster of summer and the colors of fall, but the season is subtle and serene.
Refusing to go unnoticed is a plant, clustered with tiny blossoms of purple flowers.
Bright and beaming yellow blossoms, undefeated and undisturbed, adorn a bush. The bush, filled with life on this January morn, blends cheerfully with nature’s orchestra.
The weather is gloomy and overcast, but no one bothered to tell my colorful back yard friends.
A tree, showing no resemblance to its surroundings, is bare, stripped, and naked.
She pleads for nothing, and does not appear to be wounded, sick, or diseased.
The once green foliage of summer that turn brown last fall, was now gone.
It’s umbrella of shade baring leaves is now a haven of rest for the birds.
Come Spring, life will upsurge, and green leaves of shade will emerge.
But for now, the full ensemble of life must await the new season.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem