March 11, 2025Poem
Our friends in the North
lossnaturecitypoliticstimelove
Our friends in the North
Summer purrs
Buzzing with the sound
Of fat insects
Full of juice
The smell of citronella
The swirl of smoke
Mosquitoes kept at bay.
Somewhere far away
There will be snowdrops
Wastelands are plentiful
Draped in war leaves
A land barren of life.
The smell of death
Carried on the wind
Secrets rarely told
Barely heard,
As the laughter of children
Playing in the sun
Clashes with the news
Of winter.
The tides of change
The rip of broken lives
That lie at the heart
Of cold things.
Am I thankful?
Breathing gently,
In a snow-blown world
Short shrift is given
To peaceful things.