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
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