subtext

on the hill in the distance home waits

but for now I work within a wood

where most of my problems are my own

and these too will vanish soon like frost

melting from the bare braches about me

#

the sun climbs higher into a clearer sky

the once warming of work now sweats

so I break for water not quite noticing

the quick cry and flutter of nearby birds

singing their sharp pips after seed

#

if I pause to watch each glisten of light

I will not compete the task set before me

and discover what every dead man knows

the world will wobble on from winter

until spring with or without me along