Season of hope?

Cherry

By Parson Thru

Sun, 24 Nov 2019
  • 955 reads
5 comments
 

It’s barely light at all

Nor likely to be

The air is wet

Wheels splash through leaves,
cutting their narrow mark

Everything's a shade of brown

Season of hope? Or despair?

In the end we are mulch, or ash:
not much of a choice

Does anything preexist
the shit and corruption?
Does something survive?

The bells of St. Wilfred’s,
comforting as they are,
don’t supply the answer

Maybe the clue is inside us

Certificate PG
Poem
Mortality Games
Miscellaneous

Comments

Submitted by onemorething on

I think the clue must be inside us. I veer between both. :)

 

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Hi onemorething. I pondered that line whilst cycling back to here. Spirit. Connection between humans. God bloke. Church? More tradition than anything for me. All the religions have it right, apparently. Sounds like this bloody election. Each warmonger claims God as his/her own. Etc.

Parson Thru

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Thank you. X

Parson Thru

Submitted by Rhiannonw on

I liked your description of cycling through yesterday's murkiness and mulch very much (esp 'through leaves, cutting their narrow mark') .

Not bells, or ideas/religions give me any encouragement. Only that one greater has spoken and come, and that can be examined. Rhiannon

 

Submitted by Parson Thru on

Hi Rhiannon.

Hope you're well. That time of year. Just had a beautiful wet walk above Hebden Bridge.

Parson Thru