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An Old Man's Winter
he wakes up peacefully and always silent
no one to wake up to, except the sunrise
he sees the mountain and the trees which are wind bent
there is snow blanketing the ground,
and there is much work to do
the old man gets up, grabs his boots and grabs his coat
eats his breakfast, a meager meal of grits and toast
he picks up a pencil and writes the note
and there is much work to do
he goes outside and shovels all the snow
he gathers firewood and puts it beside the cottage
he grabs his cap, nothing else to show
and there is much work to do
he starts up his truck and drives to town
he remembered the note which has all his needs
he picks up groceries and medication without a sound
and there is much work to do
he gets back to the cottage and starts a fire in the fireplace
grabs a book and fixes himself some cold soup
he sits there calmly with a soup that has no soup
and there is much work to do
a few hours later, he goes back outside, locks and bolts the door
he follows the trail that leads deep into the woods
he may go farther, and perhaps a little bit more
and there is much work to do
the snow starts to fall and the ground crunches underneath him
the woods are always lovely in this type of evening
the old man heads back as the lights start to dim
and there is much work to do
he goes inside and the house is cold again
he starts another fire and fixes himself dinner
there is no love of a wife, and no love of a friend
and there is much work to do
then he goes to bed and dreams his quiet dreams
the snow still falls and clicks every now and then
the old man is at rest, and everything is as it seems
and there is nothing else to do
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The woods represent death.