The Brook in February
by Sir Charles Douglas Roberts
A snowy path for squirrel and fox,
It winds between the wintry firs.
Snow-muffled are its iron rocks,
And o’er its stillness nothing stirs.
But low, bend low a listening ear!
Beneath the mask of moveless white
A babbling whisper you shall hear -
Of birds and blossoms, leaves and light.
It wasn't a snowy day as in the poem, but Hills & Dales MetroPark was still and quiet and nothing was stirring, except for the soft burbling of water trickling underneath the ice. I heard it, felt the tension from winter and the hidden, but soon to be noticed, spunk of the coming spring.
There are subtle signs of the change of seasons,
ReplyDeleteWonderful late winter pictures. Our property is bordered on two sides by a creek. It runs, depending on rainfall, between October and April. The sound of its flowing water is one of my favorite things.
ReplyDeleteYou found the perfect poem to go with these photos. I was sitting outside for a while yesterday and listening to the birds. They seemed more chipper than usual.
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