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Season's Greetings

 

Sunrise surveys last night's storm
He steams it, silent, to the sky:
This Alpine meadow basks in warmth,
The morning's still, an eagle's cry.


So from here we watch the wisps
Of paths passed, once-seen pleasures
Rain down, renew tomorrow's trails
Of distant goals, unrealized treasures.


Mind the canyon snowmelt murmur,
Moving meadows that do not see
One's mind reflecting mirrored pools,
And what is, and ought to be.


We'll not forget the narrow ledge
Nor footing on this frozen slope
Nor fail to see and love "what is",
Thus know the worth in us, we hope.


Having seen the honest scheme
Of mountained, timbered, open spaces,
It seemed the joy in primordial truth
Applied no less to citied places.


Surveying trails which brought us here,
Old friends left now with bolder paces,
We retraced the path that leads
To closer friends, to cheerful faces.

(b&w gif, doe & fawn)

 

 

 

© Alex Forbes 1974, La Parola 1990

 

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