Poetry Escape © by Jenne Brown May 1, 2017 Escape © by Jenne Brown It’s been too long a winter, too long bleak. Memories of sun and green grown weak. In shadows the sun has lurked, For longer than my mind can search. Too cold and blustery to venture outside, I spend an endless winter locked inside. March comes with slight relent As winter’s cold and wind diminish. I drive and drive to find a place Where I can escape Marching rows of man’s geometric shape, That forget the restful curve of nature’s face. At last I turn and stretch the eye To find not a box in sight. I see the bough’s slender sweep, Carrying only the tender leaves; The tracks of a deer and her doe, A crystal palace where the dew froze. All the entertainment I need Skipping a rock across a snowy, icy sheet; Hearing the eerie echoes as it proceeds Past different depths of frozen deep; To feel the wind beat across the lake To make war upon my face. To taste the wild, unfiltered air, Unprocessed, untainted, naked and bare. Peeking through trees to find trails Made not by man, nor to man’s avail. The only sound to contend a bird’s song Is the rustle of the breeze as it moves along. I must return at last To the lot and car of two hours past Where the lines don’t feel so hard, Nor the road to return so far. I find a peace Absent all the week As I drove Along roads Of concrete and cement; Old roads, beaten and bent. Now I find the melody of a bard In the hum and rattle of my aging car. And after the western sky has dimmed into night, I discover a dance of flickering lights. A twinkle, a glare, an odd little flight – Yesterday, nothing more than city lights. When God went to create, He curved so many lines that were straight, Not crooked, nor twisted, nor bent, But an easing, a giving, a relent. Lines not lacking direction Yet pushing the eye to deeper reflection. And escape must be found From the finite works man has bound Upon the features of a landscape Sculpted and shaped. The architect ought set his plan With remembrance of the Creator’s hand. Lay the lines amidst the work of the divine, To recall the grace that has allowed us this space. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) Related Previous Snowshine © by Jenne Brown Newer God Could Be A Cowboy Too © by Jenne Brown You May Also Like My Tiny Bit of Faith and This Mountain That I Face January 15, 2018 The Undoable Thing © by Jenne Brown April 16, 2017 I’m Not Feeling Perfect Social Media June 26, 2019 Leave a Reply Cancel reply Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *Name * Email * Website Comment Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email.