What truth resides within
the snow, the new white snow
covering all the ground, clinging
clinging to brush and tree?
What truth resides beneath,
beneath the branches of
a bush, almost obscured,
blending color with the brush?
What truth resides within
the crouching quivering hare,
fur all a fluff, eyes intense,
its uneased heart
beating beating fast?
What truth resides within
the hawk above, circling,
looking down, swooping,
pulling up, grabbing perch
high out on snowy branch?
What truth resides within
a young black squirrel
bounding cross the snow,
then up a trunk to hollow warm,
packed with leaves and
seeds and nuts?
What truth resides within
the house across the way
frost upon its window panes
chimneys pumping steam,
RV out back beside some swings,
two cars inside its garage?
What truth resides within
bouquet of roses slowly wilting
ensconced in vase antique
inside my own cold
frosted panes?
What truth resides within
the news from radio,
upon TV, within the apps
inside my phone,
far too often reasoned
less than keen, more
titillate to persuade
than search for truth
and wisdom lean?
What truth resides within
this book I hold, its
words I’d never read,
quiet words suggesting
there is more, much more,
for all numb humans
to discover and digest?
Oh, what compelling truth resides
within the act of looking, really looking,
at thoughtful words I’d never read,
at not so simple goings on outside,
at all the cold white snow.
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Saturday, February 2nd, 2019
Bridgman
MI
USA
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