It's finally spring! As cold and desolate as winter was in Chicago, spring (though it came in May) is just as refreshing and beautiful. I think, perhaps, winter is the sleep of time, or of nature. The buds must close and the grass must fade so they can rest and be fully renewed when the sun returns. There is nothing that inspires as much hope and peace as a lovely spring morning. So, I bid adieu to the winter and the cold (both external and internal) with a little ode to black.
~ P. Desai (08/2009)
~Black~
swish whoosh gone
Quiet is the sound
of the dark Raven
black.
easy are the steps of
those who walk above
who do not know whither
their steps may go.
gray film blurs
everything in kind when
a light goes out and
leaves darkness behind.
dreary skies overhead
and heaviness within,
I cry a salty tear, a coal
snake slithers down my cheek.
black is numb and cold
yet it pierces and aches
it hurts, it is hurt
it is nature's sad day
slither and swoosh
extinguish and weep
this horrible macabre
play of black.
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