winter of my heart – hazel meadows

the winter of my heart

when a great solitude –

stagnation and silence –

falls upon me.

I am no further in bloom

nor in harvest,

within my center

a barren branch

without leaf,

without song.

I must simply wait

and in the defrost

a nest begins –

built string by twig

until the sparrow’s carol

fills each fresh morning.

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Published by grumpygorman

I am a Social Worker by day and an artist/writer by night. I use the written word in an attempt to make sense of the secret worlds and dysfunctional dynamics that lurk beneath the facades of our daily interactions. I am not sure how my writing styles are characterized, nor am I overly concerned about it. I am immensely enthusiastic about music and often connect better with songs than I do people. I also have an intense appreciation for quality wines and whiskies, frequently consuming them in excess. I like things that smell good and struggle to manage the symptoms of a life-long relationship with depression. So, why "grumpygorman"? Spend some time here and find out...

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