So spring is starting to set in finally here in Erie, there's no more snow, for about a week now probably, and the grass is growing back. The Temperatures are still lower than I would like, for the most part, but I can't complain. In compliance with how beautiful it is out, I wrote a poem about nature, with an aptly gay (and also temporary) name.
A River Gorged Through My Heart
I'm sitting on an edge
and two hundred feet below me
water torrents from the hilltops
water torrents from the snow melt
and it breaks eternal silence.
The orangish sky is fleeting
it is running form the clouds,
there's fallen trees from broken boughs,
brought on by feet of snow.
The view is mostly brown and white
sometimes green from thin spread pines;
but the palette is forgiving,
it almost hurts to look away.
And as the orange fades to red
while the moon rises behind me,
the running water's noise idly reflects
from across the cliff-side to another.
As the fading light leaves me in darkness,
a flickering red illuminates this page,
and a bath of smoke obscures it.
Momentarily, I sigh
as the sun slips down below
the stale horizon,
and I can't help but smile
as I walk back to the prison
the keeps me from this beauty.
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