Author Information
with Desire
Folder:
Commentary on Apocalypses Snow's pouring down from heaven's snow machine
Late January and Winter finally woke up, got on the job
On this day many celebrated an inauguration
As I listened to a crackling fire and dressed up thick to tend to the birds
Some would see the snow
Squall as ironic; myself:
Appropriate
This whole rat race is just passing of baton between runners
One phase of rigged competition closer to a winner
One lap more towards an ending we, in halves, take turns
Cheering for and booing, while only those who 'have it all'
And want even more
Are constantly cheering
with Desire
So bury me in snow
Greater than the Wall of China
And build me a dome of evergreens
To kill off all the satellites
I'll invite those who might wish to hide
In Nature's brute...tranquility
That's becoming all I desire
Substitute
Conifers for hi-rises, tranquillity for sirens, canada geese gone, gray or sky - I get those confused. City country city, wealth search or shut it out/down. The cities are the woods, open landscapes are brick and steel surrounded, threatened by distance.
Yes, the trade off. I grew up
Yes, the trade off. I grew up in one of the most concrete of jungles on the planet. My dad supplemented best he could, planting a peach tree and fruiting bushes in the small yard of our rental, along with roses for my mom and tomatoes for his sandwiches. We were lucky in that our block also contained a few trees. There was a slight scent of nature's presence. That's as close as it got. The geese were eventually killed at the parks there, too. Ironically, per your mention, a massive flock just flew over my head a little while ago. The first such sighting in a couple of months and a sign that winter is either about further deepen or lighten up (as they jump from the smaller to larger lakes, or the reverse, depending on the shift in the season). I think 'deeper' is the hand at play.
Anyway, very poetic, your words. Threatened by the distance, indeed, is the spirit of the city. Threatened by the closeness of mankind's lurking (and perhaps luring?) breathe, is the country.