Leave the warmth of the cabin.
The tree can wait for decoration and lights.
Surely the hot chocolate will be well and ready when you get back.
The kettle is hardly whistled or beckoned.
The family will watch over the house for you.
It will be an adventure.
Comfy sweaters on, scarfs, jacket, hats, and gloves, too.
Walk down the pathway with a full heart.
Don't worry over the different reasons why.
Just . . . Just . . . Just go. . .
(You will not go alone, I promise.
It will be fun.)
Down, down that pathway of pebbles and stones,
Crunch all the steps with the fresh powder of ivory.
With the sunny twilight clouds and the tree branches,
Deep into the woods with their nude bark and snowy crowns.
Go well past the crow and stop a while.
(Here the little giggles will be ahead of you.
The little imp will not be too far away. She promised.)
Ponder what seasons did last the butterfly flutter here.
Her pink wings did kiss all the flowers last time.
Alas the sun is gone!
Yet still rejoice for the pale moon comes.
Your little imp has dashed well ahead will stop.
Call the child aloud and she will happily return.
Be well cloaked in winter's chill and know well the way.
For the owl will sing and dance for you.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry of the Tides
PoetryA series of poems with different meanings and moods. They are all here and have been here a good time from the tides of my mind. I give you some entries of earnest tidings.
