A Meditative Stroll

This January’s sun is pale

It rises late and leaves a trail

Of golden moments wreathed in mist

Where woodland birds make early tryst.

 

Last night the full moon* round and daunting

Made my homeward stroll quite haunting;

An eerie atmospheric dream

With puddles mirroring its sheen …

 

With life so fraught, Man is confused;

A plethora of worrying news

Channels fear into our veins

Where apprehension sprouts and reigns.

 

To pour balm on our troubled souls

Perhaps we should assess our goals …

Each season tiptoes in quite coy

Displaying vistas to enjoy!

 

Unchanging, and yet on the move

Mother Nature’s gifts can soothe

So why does reckless Man destroy

Our homeland which imparts such joy? 

(c) Poet in the woods 2022 

* Known as the Wolf Moon