Poetry — 27 November 2012

A poem by Cynthia Scotkin (Gitesh’s ex-wife)


He thought on fragile springtime,
of crocus through the snow,
brooks emerged from ice cocoons,
heard the March winds blow.

Under lush green canopies sat
cool refuge from summer’s sun
from searing heat, from sweaty toil
when his long day’s work was done.

lake by Sudheer

As the autumn days grew cool
As colors exploded from green,
the old man sat and smiled
while he gazed upon the scene.

Now his winter comes faster
halting, he walks toward home
he waits for his shortest day,
which after a time shall come.

Old Sol sets in western skies,
Luna, sparkling stars rise east,
thankful is he, this old man,
a guest at life’s great feast.