Poetry

By Roger Bushman


Dressed in White

Life is filled with distractions.
Pivot points.
Paradoxes.
Periodic impasses.
I try to leave my troubled thoughts by walking.
But even the twilight air,
Cold and crisp,
Cannot resolve the war of words
Within my mind.
There is a padded softness
In the crunching snow.
Muffled sounds.
Mingled thoughts.
Muted tones.
Massive tree trunks—I follow them upward
Trying to express a wordless prayer,
And through a network of numberless branches
I see a puzzled sky.
I wonder.
I wait.
Silently I turn
And follow the meandering trail of solitary footsteps
Across the deepening snow.
The earth seems simple
Dressed in white.
Serene and grandly dignified—reminding me
Of sacred ties.
And templed thoughts trickle through my mind
Thawing for a moment
My icy indifference.
The world is simple dressed in white.
The snow becomes a blanket of warmth.
And wrapped in it
I head for home.

[illustration] “Lone Peak,” by Al Rounds