Depression In Winter, by Jane Kenyon
There comes a little space between the south side of a boulder
and the snow that fills the woods around it.
Sun heats the stone, reveals a crescent of bare ground:
brown ferns, and tufts of needles like red hair, acorns,
a patch of moss, bright green...
I sank with every step up to my knees,
throwing myself forward with a violence of effort,
greedy for unhappiness -
until by accident I found the stone,
with its secret porch of heat and light,
where something small could luxuriate, then
turned back down my path, chastened and calm.
It seems these cold days are coming upon us more quickly than usual. I was out pulling down my Morning Glory vines and tried to retrieve some of the seed pods for next spring. My daughter in law has put away all my yard statues and now it looks so bare out there. Now I only see the quick flash of color as the birds fly by, anxious to beat the squirrels to the feeders.
I tend to get sad this time of year
and this type of poem about nature appeals to me. I hope you enjoy it too.
Have a great day and enjoy the sunshine while we may.
Hugs
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