In a Winter Forest

by Jim Farfaglia

In a Winter Forest


I love how my heart can still be moved:

fifty-seven years old,

having beaten through darkness and light –


yet it flutters anew meeting a startled doe,

then settles once more,

listening to the rhythm of a rambling brook.


It grows heavy finding a dying field mouse,

and melts – it’s melting still  –

witnessing snow make way for a determined green.

Share this story:
Facebook Twitter Pinterest Plusone Email

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <s> <strike> <strong>