Today's poem is by Timothy Geiger

Retreat
       

After the first light
snow dissolves
in the morning sun,
the fog appears ghostlike—
spirit of all the fallen
stick and leaf scatter
across the forest floor.
Sunrise and I'm cold
of heart, bruised
as the apple dropped
from the countertop—
these words becoming
snow, thawing
in the sun.
                This solitude,
self-imposed, away from
everyone, away from
faces that fill my days,
like fallen sticks and leaves
in another forest
of work and obligation.
I remain detached here
as the temperature
rises and the wind
wreaks a little havoc
in my hair. Icicles daring
the roofline's gutter
melt back to rain.

Copyright © 2024 Timothy Geiger All rights reserved
from In a Field of Hallowed Be
Terrapin Books
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission