A Winter Poem

By James G. Piatt

A haunting silence, and the emptiness of longing, pierce through the winter night mist as I sit in the library listening to voices in my mind. They are trudging through long-forgotten memories, and are mere black smudges of forgotten memories. I hear black-feathered crows cawing in the distance, complaining about the coldness of the incoming storm. The coming rain, like particles of teardrops, bundled together like moonbeams, is passing over the horizon’s scarlet and crimson-colored gate, and will be entering the valley soon. There is something mysterious about watching a storm from far in the distance from the safety of a window, it is like a picture being created in slow motion, like ritual images streaming into one’s mind, lit up by haphazard, and random flashes of light, and announced by tumultuous peals of thunder. Until the raucous lightning and its thunderous drone of bright flashes leave the atmosphere remains eerie. The atmosphere contains the sounds of water, like giant tears pouring through the tired moments of my, life. The sound of the cold wind groaning and wailing like some angry phantom creates the eerie taste of winter. Winter, brings its cold voice, clinging to the broken edge of unquenchable emotions. The wind is starting its symphony of aggression, slamming molecules into empty spaces and urging the arms of rain to embrace the area’s body, much in need of moisture. I am living in anticipation as I watch gusts of wind-driven rain battering the siding of the old farmhouse.

James, a nonagenarian and retired professor, lives in Santa Ynez, California, with his wife Sandy, and an Aussie dog named Scout. He has published five collections of poetry, five novels, and forty short stories in hundreds of national and international literary publications. He is twice, a Best of Net nominee and four times a Pushcart nominee. He earned his doctorate from BYU, and his BS and MA from California State Polytechnic University, SLO.