by Alicia Beckwith
STRANGE WHITE SENTINELS
Snow swirls about as I walk through the woods tonight;
I wrap my arms around me, hugging myself real tight.
The wind whips my coat, flapping it in the breeze,
as it passes me and swings branches in the trees.
Tracks still visible as I make my way
in the cold, foggy dusk of this day.
A beautiful sight’s there for me to see,
as I stop and look all around me.
Crystallized fingers glisten in afternoon light
as they reach out with beauty and might.
A sudden puff of wind explodes piled snow
that takes off in the afternoon’s warm glow.
Tree trunks show forth their chocolate bark
that are quickly fading as day grows dark.
Diamonds glisten inviting one to explore
the treasures that the snow does implore.
Confectionary sugar tops the scene, catching the eye
as I slowly approach and then tip-toe on by.
Pine boughs break free as snow gives up it’s hold,
and it’s allowed to quite spritely unfold
giving up it’s burden to the wind,
removing snow with its twisting spin.
Tree after tree gives up its snowy secret.
There are Just a few that decide to keep it
for the next walker to see on their jaunt
to see the beauty that they flaunt.
SYCAMORE ROW
She stands naked in winter,
tall and full come summer.
Skin of alabaster white for all to see,
branches holding her dress in summer breeze.
The lane is far as I walk along
gazing at fields of lush green.
Now I can see the large barn
housing livestock from the storms.
I look up and see the sky peek through
those lacy green dancing leaves.
The sycamore trunks all alike;
long giraffe necks peering out.
They stand askew greeting everyone
who grace their path anew;
and all those friends of old
saying, “Welcome to Sycamore Row.”
FENCES
There are several kinds of fences to be found,
not only here, but all the world around.
Some keep livestock safe and sound;
Some stand out, others need to be found.
Country sides divided by walls of stone,
Some with logs intertwined, just alone.
However, there are hidden fences
Lurking in our everyday trenches.
These fences offer protection and safety,
Be it from harm or for what we may see.
We take these down when we feel we can,
Depending upon just what we want to ban.
When we meet others, we check to see
Is there a fence meant just for me?
or should I build my own for safety.
Can I leave the tools in the shed
until the situations been fully read?
Can I proceed with caution to see
just what’s in store for me?
Can I trust? Should I turn about and run?
Can I feel comfortable enough to have fun?
This world in which I live is so uncertain
regarding trust in every single person.
Alicia Beckwith is a local poet and author and has been writing for four decades. Her poems have been published in book collections and magazines.
RUNDELANIA 