Shadows of a Season Passing

Bare limbs and bird song…
The sun finds gold in newly fallen snow;
another week of freeze until  February.

The lore of a groundhog is a grand distraction.
We feast on the fruit of our labors. No need
to rue the withered bloom; spring will come again.

Treasons, tensions, masquerades;
seasons pass.  Each must take the litmus test;
how much difference will it make

a hundred years from now?
Priorities evolve, dissolve; trends change.
Pray we pick our battles wisely.

4 thoughts on “Shadows of a Season Passing

  1. BoardFlak

    We are what we fight for; at least that’s how the world sees us. Sometimes, when we forbear tilting at a windmill, the world can get the wrong impression; but we know the difference and that’s what counts.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s