january leaves and spring love - poetry collection

Ode to lettuce lake

the sound of silence on a cool, flat winters day:

the way the sun creates ribbons of light in the swamp,

refracting off the hydrilla laying along the bank,

currents of pristine water washing through duckweed.

the way the warmth of the sun on feels your skin through a long sleeve shirt two hours before

sunset—how your hair glows bright orange

when it'd usually be bronze.

the sun-kissed yellow-green of a maple oak in january and the deep autumn red of red maple trees

the reflection of old growth bald cypress trees,

cascading tendrils of spanish moss unfurling from its branches,

hordes of birds still perched amongst

the highest branches,

is barren.

too cold for leaves, its sheds its thousands

of pine needle like leaves

they find their home in beds of mossy dirt.