I and my environment seem to have become one:
an indistinct persistence of sightless fog meandering aimlessly through a forest of uncertainty.
Frost on an early morning that shivers with trepidation in shadowed places, knowing that the light of another dawn might eventually render it extinct.
A feeble winter sun that timidly lurks behind sporadic mists and naked branches in search of a fragile day that vanishes too quickly to absorb any warmth.
Nothing profound intended here. Just random, fleeting thoughts on a yawning December afternoon. Thoughts designed to accompany the recent photos I took on my property (that sounds more impressive than "in my yard").
I deleted my previous blog post but salvaged the photos.
It's painfully obvious that I'm not in the mood to blog, don't have the holiday spirit, and have been forcing myself to get through another December.
I'm weary of the mercilessly endless daily personal problems, of the frenzied holiday hypocrisy, of existence in general.....
Don't read too much into it.
It's part of my peculiar nature, part of the poet within me, and part of the privilege of expressing myself.
Photos, anyone?
Dawn
An evergreen at dawn this morning
Morning Frost
The rising moon last evening
