Times To Reflect

Poem by David Cannon

 Reflections On January

Gunpowder smog swamps the air,
On the first day of the year,
Silent streets are scattered with debris,
Left in wake of the New Year,

Nothing appears different,
As I gag for my every breath,
Tenderfoot across ice rink roads,
Visibility blurred through a vial of mist,

The eerie silence of drunken sleep,
Sends a shiver down my spine,
No cars nor people walk these streets,
I am alone as I reach for a cigarette,

Reflections On February

My breath hangs on the shivering air,
Wandering sunlight barely warms,
Eyes skew amidst brightness that blinds,
I shield of light with the edge of my hand,

Shops windows are garnished,
With teddy bears and balloons,
Messages of love are everywhere,
Which makes me feel a little lonesome,

The trees that stand on the grass verge,
Show signs that spring is emerging,
As little shoots of leaves are sparse,
On naked straggling branches,

Reflections On March

Through my window I gaze,
At the new born Daffodil's,
That sprinkle roadside grass,
Freshly kissed with morning dew,

A spirited chorus of the Song Thrush,
Discards those dormant winter days,
Beaded water on the window pane,
Sparkle like sun kissed jewels,

Rain puddles in stooping tarmac,
Reflect the scantily covered trees,
That long to bloom in early spring,
To let their flamboyant colours shine.

Reflections Of April

Raindrops fall amidst shafts of light,
That spear beyond the clouds,
Shining upon the sodden road,
Then dancing upon its surface,

Daisies shoot from lush green grass,
Like snowflakes left from winter,
On the horizon a languishing rainbow,
That arches through broken cloud,

Church bells chime on Easters day,
Golden eggs feed chocolate faces,
Church hymns echo silent streets,
Scented with freshly cut grass,

Reflections Of May

The days seem longer as summer looms,
To parch these well nourished streets,
The sunrises early to awake the world,
To the splendour that spring gives,

I walk the streets in early morning,
Accompanied by the sun,
Cherry blossom pink trees cascade,
Sweet scented petals on the road,

The crisp morning air fills my lungs,
Rejuvenating my lust for life,
Early risers walk their dogs,
Through rolling fields of green.

Reflections Of June

Earlier summer's days are here,
Evident as I walk in the sun,
A concerto of life sings its praise,
As it welcomes in the warmth,

Bumblebees hover from flower to flower,
That I tenderly nurtured from seed,
This gives me a sense of satisfaction,
As they blossom in full glory, 

Luke warm air soothes my soul,
As I preen the red rose bush,
To place them inside the vase,
That I keep upon my windowsill. 

Reflections Of July

I stroll along the riverbank,
To cool from searing sun,
The mallards chatter excitedly,
As I feed them scraps of bread, 

A fisherman sits patiently,
Perched like a gnome upon a stool,
Gazing out into flowing waters,
Mindfully silent awaiting the catch, 

I rest my legs on the grass banks,
As I watch children climb a tree,
My stomach ties in knots,
As they dangle from bowing branches. 

Reflections Of August

The days seem so long,
As I bask upon my deck chair,
Sipping ice cold orange juice,
As I brown in sweltering heat, 

The world is shrouded in silence,
Fall of sound turns to sleep,
These lazy summer days,
Parch the words inside my mouth, 

The crystal skies seem boundless,
Not a cloud enters the blue,
All I hear is the chiming,
Of the ice inside my glass. 

Reflections Of September

Thunder storms rage,
In the dead of early autumn twilight,
Explosions of lightening breach the dark,
To fill the room with silver, 

Rain showers from the skies,
To pummel on the pavements,
Leaping up in all its force,
To river to the drains, 

Mighty rumbles rattle the window,
Unsettling my racing heart,
Pull my blanket over my head,
Count the seconds lightening comes, 

Reflections Of October

Clouded skies mar the sunlight,
As forceful winds prevail,
Scattering crisp bronze leaves,
That piles the wired fence, 

Broken branches hide amongst the foliage,
Bestrewn from the towering trees,
Colours of gold, bronze and yellow,
Sheathe the windswept lane, 

Arching against the breeze,
That lashes tender skin,
Fine misted rain dampens the soil,
That gathers on my shoes. 

Reflections Of November

The birds upon the rooftops,
Amass in flocks of thousands,
Migrating to sunny weather,
As the winters closing in, 

Trees stand almost naked,
Deserted of their leaves,
To lay dormant for the winter,
That sails in on northern winds,

Darkness falls early,
As sunset closes in,
Resplendent skies of fiery amber,
Languish to raven black. 

Reflections Of December

Snowflakes fall in silent night,
Nestling gently against the pane,
The lonely streets are colourless,
But the white that coats the land, 

Footsteps forged by treading feet,
Disappear in a ceaseless downfall,
Pavement sheathed by arctic ice,
Glows orange under flickering street lamps,

Twinkling jewels of Christmas lights,
Decorate the snow swept windows,
My breath hangs dense to mist the glass,
As I remember days gone by.

 

David Cannon, contact: kmlcannon@ic24.net 
Copyright 2000 David Cannon.
Reviews and comments requested
Posted 10/03/2000