Drifting Sand, Hidden Age

Within me no adult
Only child and elder
No Winter in my life
But I am always Spring
And Later Fall will come
Much later, much later
A busy Spring of growth
Racing into the sky
Yet I yearn for Winter
I hide in cold darkness
Beautiful white silence
But come dreaded Summer
I may taste real Winter
My time always reveled
And in Summer's dry heat
For me a second Spring
No sun to make me cold
Forever is my Spring
Before the silent white




Hello reader,

The poem above was written completely on the spot, without any long pauses and without revision.  I suppose you could say it was improv.  There's a depth to it you probably don't expect, but I can't say it's a good poem or anything.  It's just something I wanted to type after having gone for a nice walk in the snowy outdoors.  Today is sort of my last day to finish my essay for school.  Although it's due Wednesday, I intend to bring it in for some guidance in tomorrow's class.  I'll then edit it a few times over before handing it in on Wednesday.  I was feeling kind of shut-in and crappy this morning (I woke up at 7am!) so I went for a walk! One of my favourite walks to take is through the exploration trail(?) leading to Riverdale farm.  I jogged for a bit at first.  Later on, I felt really nice and refreshed as I treaded through the many inches of snow on the ground in the park.  There were lots of people in the cool, wintry park; some sledding, some playing, and some just watching.  It just felt good to get out like that, though I'm not really sure why.  I walked along the trial toward Cabbage town/Riverdale park west, and as usual, I stood underneath the Weeping Willow tree for a little while.  This time, they were a slightly strange sight to behold. The Weeping Willows, which, although seemingly sullen and anguished, always bestowed upon me a strange, almost nostalgic feeling of calm aliveness.  These charismatically wistful trees that normally contrast with their lively, upright surroundings were doing just the opposite; they were budding!  Budding amongst the thick snow and dead tree-brethren all around!  I found that pretty interesting.  Immediately after I got to thinking about it, I found myself overwhelmed by Winter's mystique!  Everything around me covered in thick whiteness, from the sky dropped tiny speckles of what could only be rain, snow or hail - I couldn't even tell.  It seemed as though they were floating down ever so slowly, and on whim I suddenly decided to lay on the ground right underneath the thin, drooping hair-like branches of the Willow tree, letting the deep snow absorb me.  The first moment was the best: complete relaxation, coolness enveloping me all over, cold speckles landing on my face, and nothing but drooping branches ahead of me, with the emptiness of the Winter sky as the backdrop.  I must have been lucky that no one was anywhere near me even though plenty of people were out with their dogs on the other side of the park.  I let myself relax entirely, and eventually closed me eyes for a while.  I didn't get up until the frost started to bite, and all the while, not a single person dared disturb my calm, revitalizing experience.  It sounds strange, but I'm thinking the cool, "invigorating" air of Spring is, in fact, more of a "calming" air, and it's really the cold, pure air of Winter that's more rejuvenating.



Within me no adult, only child and elder.