winter's brown

it’s nine degrees

when i step foot 

onto the driveway

and start my trek

down the gravel

road

this kind of cold

creates

quiet

and i know it will not be

birds today

that stir my understanding

half way through the cornfield

when all i hear are sounds

of my own footsteps

through frozen snow

and the whisk whisk

of my ski jacket

i notice 

at my feet

dying weeds

brown and fallen

like a straw rug, woven

still bearing 

golden tint

and when i look up again

i am filled with

the black brown

circling round

the woods are dark today

the barren trees

bear their branches

into a stone cold 

sky

"I prefer winter and fall--when you feel the bone structure of the landscape--the loneliness of it, the dead feeling of winter. Something waits beneath it. The whole story doesn't show.  ~ Andrew Wyeth 

The riddles of God are more satisfying than the solutions of man.  ~Introduction to the book of Job