A poem for the holidays

In the midst of the often chaotic holiday season and an always chaotic new cycle, I invite you to pause, and observe your surroundings, and reflect on the details in your life, both present and illusive.


I looked upon slender birches
And remembered your white beauty,
In the woodcocks’ call from their clay banks,
I heard the music of your voice.
My eyes strained from the willowed creek;
I peered through the rose of sunset.
Light fell upon rock and lake.
Only you were not there.
Too gray a thing is dusk, you’d always said.

-Warfield Rock

Are there things in your life you are looking for, but cannot seem to find?

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