The Writer's Voice
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Just For a While
by
Donald Mason
Just for a while I saw the world as it
really ought to be
The springtime buds of tiny leaves
giving birth to serenity
Mice dart through the catnip in the
corner of the yard watched only by a
lady of stone
Who pours liquid diamonds to her
children of gold while the house cat
sleeps on her throne
The heat of the day brightens the
green to an almost painful hue
Moss ravishes kisses on the lady of
stone but blocks the guardian's view
Bird songs drift aimlessly on
honeysuckle air as snakes squeeze
the scent from the vine
The summer ravages the fruits of our labor turning what once was ripe
into
wine
Mother Nature chokes herself out
tuning her golden green into red
Leaving no nourishment, but only dry leaves where our lovely minstrel
once bled
Withered vines dry and contract and
snap the limbs from the trees
Flowers wilt like begging peasants,
their guardian angel cracks with
disease
My chair is warm and the nights are
long as I sit by a roaring fire
But there's one last thing I want to do before I kick off my shoes and
retire
I go stand at the foot of a snow angel,
head bowed with a funereal smile
And I tell her how wonderful things
once were, if only just for a while
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