Scraggly haggard tree
Sitting in the winter sun
Sighing out a plea
For the cold to be done
Winter just replies
Grow your bark thicker son
Some might be prone to hurry
But this old man ain’t one
Gene G. McLaughlin 2016
Tag: Seasons
I Heard A Rumor of Warm Wind
I heard a rumor of warm wind
I heard of a tale of green growth
I heard a story of cold’s end
I doubt the veracity of both
Gene G. McLaughlin 2015
The Equanimity of Waterfalls
The waterfall knows no equanimity
In early spring it rages
From the remnants of melting snow
In fall it is bone dry
Depleted
From the heat of the scorching summer
In winter it is still
The water cold and iced upon its rocks
The effort is
Throughout the seasons
To keep the waterfall in your mind
From early summer
When it is steady
Calm
Flowing
The water will escape its state
It always does
As will you
The effort is holding
Equanimity in your mind
When late spring is gone
And the water is a storm
Or drought
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
Winter Knows
Winter knows
What summer doesn’t
Winter shows us
That which wasn’t
In spring life grows again
In summer we see that couldn’t
Gene G. McLaughlin 2014
Love Is What We Say It Is
Money is what we say it is
Paper or power or both
Life’s meaning is what we say it is
Winter’s stagnation or spring’s green growth
God is what we say it is
The center or nature or the all
The season is what we say it is
The heat of summer or cool colors of fall
Love is what we say it is
Passion or desire or hope that binds
Struggle is what we way it is
Something to overcome or accept in our minds
Rebirth is what we say it is
A continuation or the world born anew
The new year is what we say it is
May it ruminate quietly or speak in volumes through you
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
Christmas 2005
Sunflower
Behind the house
Across the dirt road
It is a husk of its
Past self
Seeds scattered on
The ground before it
It is cold
It will grow colder
The sunflower will sway
In the wind
Be bitten by frost
Its death not the end
Of its decay
In the dust
Snow and frost
The seeds shall take shelter
For many
Things are born
On the cusp of deep winter
We know the seeds make a promise
Yet we cannot hear the promise
Drowned out by the winters howl
We wonder if winter and the sunflower
Have a covenant
Where its decay
Is only the beginning
Of the story
Gene G. McLaughlin 2005
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