By Nancy Keats Benson
Central New York Branch
across the lake
Highland Forest beckons,
yellows, green and burnt orange,
clustered together,
small houses
dotted ups and downs
and Canadian geese making their way
across the blue-grey water.
a slight chill in the air
of what is to come
and the green still sits on the hills
before frost and winter’s cold
makes its mark
of white stillness
ice and snow.
four feet of snow,
lurking
making simple walking or driving
treacherous,
holding my breath,
till my footing
moves forward
for a new beginning,
as sunlight peers
through the frozen
sky and warms
this time with hope.
I love your subtle but expressive poetic voice.
I like how you created the setting, enhanced by color and temperature details. I like how you end the poem with hope, even though winter is coming.
Good for you, Nancy. You have captured CNY, this year.