“It all belies
Our existence; we wait, and are still denied.”
“Winter-Lull” by D.H. Lawrence
https://poets.org/poem/winter-lul
The winter lull is like a pillow. I sink my head into it. Feel the comfort of its support. In my pocket my treasures rattle. A tiny little secret. No longer safe. But I like to warm my treasures in my palms. Make them shine - take them out only when needed. Then put them away.
The crows call and bring me out of my thoughts. They rest like ink-blots on a page. Proud, bold and sharp. Like black marks on lily-white pages. There is a new path to follow. To move the story along. Their caws no longer scares me.
Winter seems to have been and gone. Flowers begin to emerge. It is like a flash of colour after months of monochromatic morning walks. Time seems to tumble forth
The world is there - it all belies our existence; we wait, and are still denied.
