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Sunrise is still the coldest hour
so I throw a scarf around my neck.
This trek will lead where poplars tower
whose now dull leaves moulder their deck.

A hard frost looks almost like snow
and sun spears pierce trees' canopy
reflecting with an icy glow
as I approach a huge beech tree.

I look up to see what I might see
within a sky of cobalt blue
where just a few clouds float and flee
where the autumn flocks once flew.

Then I pause and sit to take a rest
on this bluff on Millwee creek
(one of the places I like best)
As I sit down my old bones creak.

A few wiggles to become comfortable
then I become still to blend in
... well, as still as I am able
here where the top soil is thin.

In a few minutes the forest starts to stir;
a chipmunk here a blue jay there
a squirrel grooming its gray fur
a pair of wood ducks pierce the air.

Then I hear a quiet splash
and turn my head and see a doe
who saw me move and with a flash
she quickly turns around to go.

Suddenly a "cloud" appears
a flock of starlings hundreds strong
which like a single lone bird veers
while chattering their random song.

In mere seconds they are gone
just like all my youthful years
and every single passing dawn
or all of the unshed tears.

Mid morning wind begins to blow
making me snuggle in old coat
but my chill grows even so
causing me to clear my throat.

Thus every wild thing in ear shot
suddenly is quiet and still
as my cold vigil turns to pot
on this side of this minor hill.

I wait a spell to no effect
then arise on stiff fake knees
then upon become once more erect
I depart like a gentle breeze.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Last few words: 
I know this attempt to break the writer's block is not good
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content


I find reading lovedly's work inspires me someway nearly every time. Perhaps you can find a poet that inspires you as well.
I don't see a lot wrong with this one, but some parts are a little depressed and I think that's what might be taking away from it.
There are some really good lines as well and your rhyme and metre are as typical as much of your other work.


. like my lost dreams...the flood

I think the block might be easing off. By depressed do you mean the poet sounds depressed or the reader gets depressed?Either way I appreciate the visit

author comment a relative to a "feeling". After reading your poem again, I can narrow it down to "simplistic?"
..hard to describe, really.
One example would be S2,L4. That stanza comes in strong with nice imagery, (especially L2!) but the last line is comparably simple and it deflates the rest of the stanza.


. like my lost dreams...the flood

appreciate your explanation

author comment

Hello, Stan,
I always look forward to ambling along with your poetry. Hard to walk away. Winter becomes increasingly harder as I age, so your title brought me in. :) Reading this lovely trek where the poplars tower, I would never guess you've had writer's block. So peaceful. I have one suggestion: in stanza 3, first line, the word "see" was used a couple times and I stumbled a bit. Maybe something similar to " I look up to greet what I might see."
I could live in the serenity of your poetry.

I SEE what you mean lol. I will address this in eventual edit

author comment

I liked these lines:

A few wiggles to become comfortable
then I become still to blend in
... well, as still as I am able
here where the top soil is thin.

what most people don't know, is that to be "still" is an art form!

*love, Cat

When someone reads your work
And responds, please be courteous
And reply in kind, thanks.

You are right that stillness is not an easy thing to maintain especially when bones grow old

author comment

I've always felt like I go along with you on your walks in poetry, I've said it so many times. This is beautiful I am sorry I arrived late, things came up on the weekend and kept me away somewhat.

This is beautiful poetry. I think you've done an amazing job. I will return tonight. I had a boatload of tests today and I am feeling a little icky.

Nap time for Nanny. Lol

Love Sis xox

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

I figured you'd drop by eventually lol. I hope your tests come back well and appreciate your kind words

author comment

Double post

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

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