I may be many standard deviations from the normal when it comes to Winter – one of the few who are sad to see it go. It has been a truly gorgeous one here in Berlin. And being sad at its departure doesn’t mean I don’t love Spring, just as my sadness at leaving Brisbane last time doesn’t mean I don’t love Berlin. There is a peace in Winter and I think that’s where this poem is coming from.
A riverbed or seashore between grey monoliths
Crunching weary through Winter’s withdrawal
Sleep, a rumour; dreams, now ghosts
Still hanging from trees like gallows
Dawn, held fast in gossamer
A few late drifting snowflakes
Lost and lonely, out of place
The straggling searching sympathetic souls
The last lost angels falling from
Their grey abandoned heaven.
mr oCean, 10 March 2010